Beautiful Dreamer
by BrookeLynnBridges
Summary: The year is 1872, Diana has fled Paris after witnessing the murder of her friend, but runs into trouble after arriving in England. Clark is surprised to find his childhood friend in London and needs Bruce's help to keep her safe. Meanwhile Bruce and Clark need to decide how to use what Diana knows to bring down the power hungry Lex Luthor. Please Review, my first fanfic.
1. Prologue

**_If Prologue's bore you feel free to skip, but it might get confusing later if you don't read the prologue._**

**Prologue**

Hippolyta Olympianus-Anthos had in her day been a great beauty, born to a very wealthy family in Athens Greece she experienced an idyllic childhood. Since she was his only child, her father, Zeus Olympianus gave his daughter the best education his vast wealth could buy. And by the time she was 7 years old Hippolyta was fluent in Greek, French, and Italian. Her mother, Hera Olympianus had died upon her birth, but was made so real to the young Hippolyta through her father's stories that she felt as if she had known her. Of course as is the case with most memories they became sweeter with age. The Hera of Zeus's memory grew kinder, more beautiful, more intelligent, and more greatly missed with each passing year, until the image of the woman projected to her sole child was so glorified, that the real woman would have paled in comparison had she been alive.

As a result Hera became a thing of reverence to her daughter, almost more of a goddess then a mother. For as she grew, the young girl could hardly believe that the woman she had been told of had ever actually walk the earth with mortals. It simply did not seem right, so to compensate for the loss of the mother she never knew Hippolyta recreated her in her mind as a benevolent being above this world, meant to be admired and worshipped, even in death.

When she was only 9 her father's broken heart finally took him to his dear wife, and he left behind the daughter who needed him much more than did the wife whose charms he had fabricated through the pain of loss. Upon her father's death Hippolyta was placed into the care of her Uncle, Jason Olympianus, a self-serving man with no desire other than his own comfort. Having no affection for his late brother, and possessing no admiration for the species of women. He longed for the day when he could be rid of the burden of his niece for good.

Life with Uncle Jason was unkind to Hippolyta, after being petted and cherished, to being ignored and rudely insulted day in and day out took its toll on the young girl. So at the hands of her negligent uncle who spent her fortune and ignored her woes, Hippolyta's heart began a very dangerous metamorphoses, changing from trust, and love, to uncertainty and stubbornness. The longer she was forced to remain in her uncle's house the more she began to hate him, and the more Hippolyta began to despair of the male species of having any redeeming qualities. Slowly the memories of her kind and benevolent father where erased, instead being replaced by thoughts of the angelic mother she had never known. As a child clings to a fairy tale as a means of escape, so Hippolyta clung to the image of her mother through her ordeal. In fact so much would her mother's glorious, although mostly fabricated example illuminate her thoughts, that by the time of her death the only memory she would retain of the kind father who had loved her to distraction, would be that of a bewhiskered kiss on the forehead after falling from her horse. All other memories of him, and her happy childhood would be blurred beyond recognition, or remembrance.

Three days after her 16th birthday Hippolyta was sold off by her uncle to a husband twice her age. Where her experiences with her uncle had caused her to despair of men, the abuses felt at the hands of her new husband would turn those feelings to bitter loathing. So much was her disdain for the man, that on the only occasion she ever mentioned him to his child she could not even bare to say his name, but instead referred to him as the horrible viper Monsieur Anthos. The physical and emotional brutality inflicted by her husband finally climaxed during a trip to France. And although 5 months pregnant with his child Hippolyta could see no escape from the man who in her mind had come from Hades himself. So she ran, as fast as she could.

One night while her husband was out for drinks Hippolyta grabbed a carpet bag and filled it with her most treasured possessions, things her husband wouldn't even notice where gone: the twin silver bracelets that had been her mothers, the miniature portrait of her parents, and her three favorite books, the Odyssey, a book of Greek mythology, and the world atlas. Then she walked out of the hotel and ran down the dark street never looking back.

After three days of wandering through the streets of Paris, Hippolyta, cold and tired, found her way to the back alley next to the whore house of one Madame Marie. Fatigued from hunger and stress, Hippolyta decided to simply lie down in the alley and await death, convinced it was the only escape from her tortured life. Suddenly she felt something warm being wrapped around her shoulders, she turned to see a middle aged woman laying a shawl over the freezing young woman. Her face was smeared with makeup that had been worn so long it was impossible to see what the wearer's real face looked like. The woman's face stretched into a somewhat grotesque, hungrily eager smile, similar to that of a man buying a horse who has just seen something worth his money.

"You poor thing. How long have you been here?"

Hippolyta didn't reply she was still trying to decide if this horrifying woman was real or if she was hallucinating.

"Don't you worry now _ma cherie_, Madame Marie will take care of you, and once your _petite fille_ is born you will work for me to repay my kindness."

"How do you know it will be a girl?"

For some reason that was the only thing Hippolyta could think of to say to this woman who both comforted and terrified her. The Madame didn't respond but with the look of an old soothsayer she helped Hippolyta inside the whore house, and so in attempting to escape one form of slavery Hippolyta sold herself to another master.

Three and a half months later Hippolyta's daughter was born, she named her Diana. And despite the life she would live, Hippolyta was determined that her daughter would be educated, in order to further protect herself from the evils of men. So before the child could even speak Hippolyta began schooling her in the art of languages. Making sure that despite the poor grade of people she conversed with, her daughter would possess immaculate speech, not only in French, but Greek, and Italian as well. So effective in fact was Hippolyta's schooling of her daughter's speech that the other prostitutes began to refer to her as La Princesse Diana which was later shortened to Princesse.

As for Hippolyta her life in the Parisian whore house only lessened her view of men even more. She was convinced that there was nothing of any value in any of them, and couldn't possibly imagine why God would allow them to remain on the earth, except for the fact that He was also a male. As the years went by Hippolyta's contempt became even harder to conceal. In fact it became so obvious that the clients began referring to her as The Amazon, in reference to the men-hating females of legend. Surprisingly enough, instead of her obvious loathing of men dampening her appeal to the clients it had the reverse affect. There was something intriguing about this beautiful woman who loathed men. The way she would look at men was viewed by them as a challenge. Hippolyta however, took a certain amount of deranged pride in seducing these men. Each time she felt as though she had won a secret battle, proving that men really were nothing more than pleasure driven animals, brutes incapable of feeling.

Attempting to instruct her daughter of the villainous ways of men, Hippolyta ordered her child to examine those around her, the men who frequented the establishment that was Diana's home. But where Hippolyta viewed men with contempt and hatred, Diana couldn't seem to form an opinion against men. Yes they seemed to be rather pointless creatures, but without them her mother would have no living. So although Diana was an obedient student of her mother, Hippolyta's teachings never found the fertile soil she looked for. In the end Diana gave men very little thought. They were there to purchase a service, which once provided they left. However she did inherit her mother's fears of men's power. Diana had been born with a warrior's spirit for Justice and Honor; sadly neither of these things were existent in her life, so as to make her long for them all the more, and the opportunity to be forever freed from being sold to the highest bidder. For if there was one thing Diana did fear it was of forever being trapped in a life that was not hers to control.


	2. Chapter 1: A Chance Meeting

**Chapter 1: A Chance Meeting**

_Paris France, 1859_

_Diana_

Madame had just pushed Diana out into the street instructing her to "find something else to do besides disrupting my business." Diana blew on her hands to keep them warm. It had started snowing, and pretty soon the streets would be covered with snow, browned by the filth. Sighing Diana decided to go walking by the docks, she had nowhere else to go after all. Her mother was busy with a client, and Louise refused to play another game of cards until she had a chance to relax.

So with nothing more than her faded brown dress for protection against the elements, Diana began her walk towards the docks, gracefully sliding across the iced over puddles on her way. Most eight year old girls would not be allowed to wonder through the slums alone. However most eight year old girls had someone to watch them and make sure they were safe. Diana did not have this luxury, so she had become accustom to going where she pleased, and running very fast when she wound up where she shouldn't have been.

_Clark_

"CLARK KENT!"

Clark froze he knew that voice and although not overly fond of its owner he stopped in his tracks.

"And where do you think you are going Sir?"

Clark sighed "I just wanted to throw some rocks in the water Mr. Brown." Clark stared at his tutor; the man was tall and unnaturally thin, in fact it seemed to Clark on occasion as if he could see right through Mr. Brown.

"Be sure to stay dry and come back here in exactly one hour, I don't want to have to come looking for you, understood?"

"Yes Mr. Brown." Clark smiled as his tutor walked away. That was the good thing about Brown, he made a big show of his concern for Clark while his parents where around but once out of their sight he mostly left Clark to his own devices. Clark was ecstatic. How many other 10 year old boys were allowed to wander around Paris on their own? This made Clark feel very grown up.

The Kents had come to Paris from England, for Sir Johnathan Kent to do some business with a colleague of his. Since he only needed to be in France for a few weeks, Lady Martha Kent had stayed behind in England. However Johnathan felt this was an opportune chance for his young son, Clark, to improve his French and visit some of Paris's monumental sights. So much to Martha's lamenting young Clark was packed off along with his tutor to France, where his father hoped his timid son would gain some initiative.

This was Clark's last day in Paris, tomorrow he and his father would be returning to England. Clark couldn't say he was necessarily sad to be going, he didn't much like Paris. But he had greatly enjoyed his time with his father. He wondered if his meetings would last all day, maybe he could convince him to take him to the zoo later! Clark continued to walk along the edge of the water, kicking the dirty snow as he went.

As he walked farther along, veering away from the docks he heard someone singing. Curious he followed the sound down an alley until he came out onto a street. He noticed it was significantly dirtier than the one he had been on. Clark stopped at the entrance to the alley as he saw a girl dancing around the street, singing to herself; the street was mostly abandoned so no one seemed to take notice of her. She was beautiful, gracefully twirling with an elegance most dancers had to train for years in order to obtain.

Clark was mesmerized by the scene, however the spell was abruptly shattered once he heard something barked from a doorway. He saw the girl turn to see who had spoken, then watched as her large light blue eyes filled with terror. The next thing he knew, she was running past him followed by a larger boy. Quickly Clark put two and two together and took off after them determined to help the girl get away.

_Diana_

When she heard her name, Diana stopped dancing despite the cold. She suddenly felt a much worse feeling than her frozen limbs. Terror spread through her body as she recognized the voice. Diana turned her head for confirmation only to see he was already running towards her. Diana took off running as fast as she could. Although a fast runner, the boy was bigger and his height gave him an advantage. She turned down random streets careless of any direction, simply trying to shake off her assailant. Soon though she came to regret the lack of attention given towards the direction she was running, because Diana found herself backed into an alley way with no means of escape. Despite the panic pounding in her ears, her pride flared to the surface, and in a commanding voice that barely betrayed the fear coursing through her veins, Diana addressed her pursuer.

"Leave me alone Marius!"

The boy's face spread into a wolfish grin.

"Oh come now Diana, you know the rules. You aren't allowed in front of my father's shop, it's bad for business." Marius sneered, and took another step towards Diana.

"I haven't done anything wrong. Your father is never here anyway, probably because he is too busy visiting my mother." As soon as the words left her mouth Diana regretted them. She was right of course. Marius's father did frequent the whore house, but he did not like being reminded of that fact. Quick as lightning Marius's fist whipped through the air and struck Diana in the jaw.

"It appears as though you have forgotten the last lesson I taught you, you little whore. Allow me to reteach it!"

"LEAVE HER ALONE!"

_Paris_

Next thing Diana saw was a streak of blue and red as someone ran between her and Marius, pushing the older boy away. Marius was stunned by the boy's appearance, but recovered quickly giving the new comer a quick jab to the face, which would no doubt be a nice black eye later. That's when Diana exploded with the pent up rage of a caged animal. It was one thing for Marius to bully her, but to hit this innocent boy, simply because he had come to her aid was too much.

In a flash, Diana lunged at Marius clawing his face, kicking, and punching with a mad furry. Diana had never fought back before, so Marius was completely unprepared for her attack. Confused and slightly dazed he pushed her away, trying to get free from the savage beast who was now attacking him. "_Damn she is stronger than she looks,_" Marius thought as he fled the alley.

Once Marius had left, Diana turned to look at her would-be savior. He was crawling along the ground, apparently looking for something. Diana looked down as well and spotted a pair of glasses in the snow, she dug them out and tapped the boy on the shoulder.

"Pardon Monsieur but are these yours?"

Clark looked up, and saw the faint outline of his glasses in her hands. Gratefully he put them on, and then looked sheepishly back at the girl he had intended to save, but had wound up saving him.

"Um thanks, my name is Clark."

"Diana, your French is.…interesting C-Clark," Diana struggled to say the unfamiliar word.

"Oh that is because I am not French, I'm English." Clark smiled, clearly thinking this was something to be proud of. Diana was not so sure, but she didn't want to be rude so she smiled in return. She took a moment to observe Clark. He was taller than she was, but not by much. In fact if she stood a little on her toes they would be the same height. He had black curly hair and dark blue eyes. The blur of color she had seen upon his arrival happened to be his scarf.

"I have seen England, my mother has a map of it in one of her books, it is an Island and you have a Queen!" Diana stated proudly, hoping to impress her new friend with her vast knowledge of his country.

Clark smiled "Do you like to read?"

"Oh yes I have read all three books many times."

Clark looked puzzled. "All three? You mean you only have three books?"

"Well they are my mother's but she lets me read them whenever I want." Suddenly Diana looked very concerned, worrying that perhaps Clark didn't have any books. She would love to give him one, but she was not sure her mother would allow that. "Do you not have any books Clark?" Diana asked.

Clark tried to stifle a laugh, his family's household library had no less than 150 books. But looking at the concern in Diana's eyes, he became afraid that she would try to give him one of her books, because she thought he had none. "Um yes Diana I have many books," Clark replied.

Diana smiled, and Clark really observed her for the first time. Being from a wealthy family, Clark had had very few experiences with those below him in class standing, and never a child around his own age. Of course Clark knew there were many people who lived in poverty. But he had always viewed these people as one might Dragons, or Mermaids. Things that may exist but you have never had the opportunity to witness first hand. Now looking at his new friend he began to view her with a more critical eye.

He noticed that the sharp contours of her high cheek bones would not be so prominent if she didn't look so hungry. She also seemed rather small. Clark had met many little girls but they all seemed to dwarf Diana's rail thin frame. Finally he took into account her clothing, realizing for the first time that she possessed no coat. Her brown dress was undisguisable, too short and covered with stains and patches. Clark's naturally sympathetic nature welled to the surface, he wanted to help her but didn't know how, and then he got an idea.

"Here I want you to have this," Clark took the long blue and red scarf his mother had made him off his neck and held it out towards Diana. Her chin rose in the air, with a pride befitting a queen. "I do not need pity, especially from a man." She said with all the dignity she possessed. Clark looked crest fallen. He was just trying to be nice, why didn't she want his scarf? With the innocence of a kindhearted little boy, he had not given thought to how it must feel to depend on others' pity. Deciding he said it wrong, Clark smiled and tried again.

"This isn't pity!" Clark declared. "It is a gift, a token of friendship and trust." Clark pushed the scarf in front of Diana again, eager for her to take the scarf that now felt as if it burned in his hand.

Diana looked quizzically, at the scarf and then the boy. "I do not understand?"

"You know, a reward, for valor in battle!" Diana still looked confused so Clark continued.

"Whenever a knight saves someone or wins a tournament, he is given a token, as a sign of gratitude and respect for his abilities." Clark decided to leave out the part that most knights where men who saved women, because he didn't think that tidbit of information would help his cause.

Diana was intrigued but was still not sure if she should take the scarf. "What is a knight?" she finally asked.

Clark thought for a moment about how to best explain what a knight was. "A knight is a…a…a HERO! Yes a knight is a hero, renowned for his good deeds, who fights for justice," Clark proudly stated, pleased with his description, and once again forced the scarf into Diana's face.

Diana smiled. She knew what a hero was, and quite liked the idea of being one. She had read many stories about the heroes of ancient Greek legend. She had never read a story about a woman who was a hero though, perhaps she was the first. Diana beamed, deciding that there was no shame in accepting tribute from a man, she took the scarf and tied it around her neck.

Clark breathed a sigh of relief. "So now I suppose I am indebted to you." Clark was having fun teaching Diana the etiquette of being a hero. Allowing his imagination to take over, he decided to make a grand gesture towards this "fair maiden," just as if he was a real knight.

"Mademoiselle Diana," Clark said taking a dramatic bow, which made the younger girl giggle at his serious demeanor. He ignored her and continued.

"I wish to further show my gratitude towards you, by extending an invitation. If you ever find yourself on England's fair shores or should you ever find you require my help. Please do not hesitate to find me." Clark smiled, feeling pleased with his very adult speech, he was sure Brown would have been impressed with his use of large words. At remembering Mr. Brown, Clark's face fell.

"Quick WHAT TIME IS IT?" as if to answer his question church bells began to ring in the distance to announce the hour. Diana listened counting the bell tolls.

"It is 6," Diana stated wondering why this would be of any concern to her new friend. She was allowed to wander to her heart's content. No one had ever placed a restriction such as time on her activities, and therefore she couldn't comprehend why it should be of concern to anyone else.

Clark groaned, realizing that not only was he supposed to already be at the docks to meet Mr. Brown, he also had no idea how to get back to the docks. During his chase of Diana and her would be assailant, he had not taken the care to memorize his path, so he could retrace it later.

"What's wrong" Diana asked, seeing the concern in her friend's eyes.

"I have to get back to the docks but I don't know how to get there."

Diana smiled, thinking men must be fools if they got upset over something as simple as finding the docks. She never stopped to consider the fact that the reason Clark could not find the docks was not because men where inferior, but simply because he had not been there but once. This intellectual thinking was far beyond the 8 year old's reach, whose sole knowledge of the world was what she had observed, never considering that her view of things could be incorrect or that someone else might have had different experiences. With the simple trust of a child in the world's unchanging nature, she assumed life was the same for everyone.

Taking Clark by the hand Diana began to drag him towards the street. "Come I will take you." So the pair took off running down the streets towards the dock, lest Clark get in trouble for being late.

By the time they reached the meeting point, Clark was having trouble seeing out of his left eye. If Diana could have read his thoughts she would have told him it was because it was swelling shut and turning a triad of colors: yellow, purple, and blue. Clark, seeing Mr. Brown pacing frantically in the rapidly nearing distance, began to slow his gait, dreading the verbal reprimand he was about to receive for his tardiness.

Diana seeing him slow his pace thought he was becoming fatigued. Trying to encourage Clark to not slow down, she grabbed his hand again, and raced him towards the docks, practically throwing him at Mr. Brown's feet once the older man blocked her path.

Brown watched the approaching children with rising indignation. Suddenly the little girl practically threw Clark at his feet. One look at Clark's swollen black eye, and Brown flew into a rage. Grabbing the little urchin by her arm Brown threw her a good 5 feet back much to Clark's dismay.

_Diana_

"Get away you little ruffian!" Brown yelled.

Diana, confused by his treatment of her, tried to approach Clark, who was yelling at the tall man in a language she did not understand. This time Brown grabbed the scarf Diana had tied around her neck and jerked back. The force sent the little girl toppling backward into the snow.

"How DARE you hurt Master Kent!" Brown yelled. However, in his rage he had begun yelling in English, forgetting that the girl probably only spoke French.

Diana sat in the snow too shocked to move. She didn't know what this man was saying, but it still terrified her. She could hear Clark screaming in the background, but her thoughts where presently consumed with the imposing man looming over her.

"And you STEAL too, do you?" Brown said, reaching for the scarf once more. Diana reverted from her shock and slapped the hand wrapping itself around the scarf. This was her scarf; it was a gift from HER FRIEND. She had earned it, not him. Deciding she needed to get far away from this horrifying man, Diana kicked him in the knee before scrambling to her feet and rushing back through the now dark streets. The sound of Brown's howling spurring her forward.

_Clark_

Clark watched in horror as Diana flew backwards landing in the snow. But after hearing Brown accuse Diana of hurting him, Clark sprang into action, yelling at his tutor, who remained oblivious to what Clark was saying, too consumed with his task of teaching a lesson to the little girl who dare befriend "Master Kent." Clark grabbed at Brown's arm trying to get him to listen. Diana hadn't done anything wrong! But it was too late, Clark could see Diana already running away in the distance, his scarf blowing in the wind behind her. He felt the rough jerking of his arm as Brown began dragging him back to the hotel. Mumbling something about Clark not saying a word to his father, and letting Brown do the talking. Clark didn't care, let Brown say whatever he wanted. He was too heartbroken to care. His new friend had just run away, and he doubted he would ever see her again.

_Diana_

Diana ran all the way back to Madame Marie's, too terrified to slow down. All she wanted was her mother, to run into her arms and cry out her troubles. But once she entered the main room of the brothel, Diana knew this could not be. Looking up the stairs to the balcony she saw the room she shared with her mother, door shut.

Well that was that. Diana knew better than to interrupt. So she crawled behind the bar and wedged herself into a corner. The night scene was in full swing. There were card games, dancing girls, drinks, and men all around. But Diana knew Jean, the bar tender, wouldn't mind her being behind the counter, as long as she didn't get under foot.

So sitting in a corner wedged between two crates in the smoke filled bar room, Diana reflected on the day's happenings. She began to wonder if her mother was right. Were men nothing more than savage brutes, who wanted to hurt those around them? Clark had been kind to her, but he was a little boy. Maybe boys became cruel once they grew up and became men. Feeling very tired and confused, Diana buried her face in the scarf Clark had given her, and proceeded to cry herself to sleep.


	3. Chapter 2: Terror in the Night

**Dog**

**Dog**

**Dog**

**Chapter 2: Terror in the Night.**

_Gotham England, 1859_

Interesting things dreams, they are like puzzles filled with your desires, memories, and questions. They must be sorted through in order to be understood. Sometimes they have no meaning, other times you already knew what they were telling you. Nightmares, however, are horrifyingly clear; they are simple in their message, Fear. Dreams are kind to you. Constantly changing, they do not repeat themselves for you to relive. But nightmares will replay again and again devastatingly consistent, never giving rest.

_Bruce,_

_"__We'll start with pretty pearls around the ladies neck." The gun comes out of the darkness, "No." Such a finalizing word, there is no taking it back. The cracking boom of the gun echoes through the recesses of his mind. NOOOOOOOOOOOO…_

Bruce bolted upright, cold sweat running down his body. How many times would he have to see it? How much longer would he be forced to relive his parent's death? Even as he begged for it to end, he knew it never would. He would never be freed from what he had witnessed that night four years ago. It would replay itself in his mind's eye for as long as he lived, nothing could erase what had been written with pain and blood.

"Why couldn't father have given him the pearls?" Even as he asked the empty room Bruce knew the answer. Those pearls had been a wedding present from Thomas to Martha. She had loved them more than anything else, save her husband and son. Thomas would have died before making her give them up, and ironically, he had.

Of course Martha had died as well, after seeing her husband killed she had scrambled to remove the pearls, but the clasp had stuck. A second shot, and Bruce's world was irreversibly changed.

Bruce stood and walked over to the wash basin, splashing cold water on his face as if to wash away what he had seen. How could life have changed so much? Nothing was the same. No that wasn't true; there was still Alfred. Alfred would never change.

After the murder of the Duke and Duchess of Strathmore, the Wayne's loyal butler Alfred Pennyworth was made the legal guardian of their only child and son. The new Duke, 8 year old Bruce Wayne, was placed into the faithful hands of Alfred, who would devote the rest of his life to making sure that Thomas and Martha's son would be taken care of.

Alfred was driven by duty in all that he did, loyal to a fault, and uncompromising in his beliefs. But that is not to say that he was devoid of affection, quite the contrary. So strong a bond would form between the old butler and his young charge that Alfred would come to view Bruce like a son, and no father ever loved his son more.

Bruce smiled, yes he still had Alfred…but no one else. Bruce brushed his fist across his eyes refusing to allow the tears forming there to fall. No, never again. He wouldn't cry ever again; he had cried enough. Now it was time for action. Standing in the darkness of his bedroom, Bruce renewed the vow he had made that dark night in the alley. He had renewed it every day for the past four years, and would continue to do so for the rest of his life. Bruce didn't know how yet, but someday, he would fight the wrongdoers of this world, bring them to justice, and do everything in his power to make sure no other 8 year old had to watch his parents die.

It was the promise of a child traumatized by the cruelties of life. But like most things of childhood, it would have a lasting effect. Bruce would never again think with the optimistic trust of a child. His view of the world had been forever changed, he couldn't see wonder, or accept the unexplainable as a child must, and he would never dream again.


	4. Chapter 3: The Cards are Dealt

**Chapter 2: The Cards Are Dealt.**

_Paris France, 1863_

A gypsy once told Diana that we are all dealt cards in this life, some good some bad. But the thing to remember is you do not deal the cards, and cannot choose what is dealt to you. Diana did not understand what the old woman had meant until she was 12 years old.

_Diana_

"LET ME GO, I WANT TO SEE HER, SHE NEEDS ME, LET GO!" Diana kicked and fought against the strong arms that held her back. "Shut up Princesse!" One of the arms let go and Diana felt a sharp pain in the back of her head as the force of Madame's slap sent her sprawling. "Now you listen to me." Madame began, her tone smoothed as she lifted Diana's chin. The young girl scrambled to remove her voluminous raven hair away from her face. Madame removed the last few dark curls so she could look Diana in the eyes and continued. "Diana your mother is dying. She may be dead already." She paused, letting the girl takes this in before continuing. "You may go see her, but know that it is to say goodbye." Having finished what needed to be said, she helped the young girl off the floor. Diana stared back at the older women. Every part of her screamed that it was a lie. Her mother was sick yes, but surely she wasn't dying. Madame Marie was lying. But deep down her inbred desire for truth told her otherwise. Madame was many things, but she was not a liar. Diana had lived in the world of prostitutes and brothels too long to not know the truth. She had seen others get _sick_ before. Watched them waste away, being killed from the inside out; their bodies becoming the enemy that destroyed them. Until there was nothing left to do but die, and be grateful for the relief of it. And now it was her mother's turn. Slowly Diana raised her chin in the air. Her mother needed her now, needed her to be strong, and she would be. She would prove to Hippolyta that she could be proud of her daughter, that she had raised her well and needn't worry about leaving her behind. This was the only kindness Diana could give to her mother, the only way to ease her sufferings. It wasn't much, but she would do whatever she could to allow her mother to leave this world in peace. Sadly she was never allowed to give this last gift to the woman who had been her entire world. By the time Diana had climbed the stairs and entered the room where her mother lay, it was too late.

Hippolyta's passing from this earth was not an easy one. She fought every inch of the way, but in the end, her iron will gave out. Diana knelt by the bed, taking her mother's cold hand in her warm one. She gently brushed blond curls away from the gaunt face. Diana wished she could say her mother looked peaceful, but that wasn't true. The once beautiful face marred by tragedy and suspicion, wore in death the haunting look of a frightened child. With tears running down her face Diana sang a Greek lullaby to her mother. The words were incorrect, and the tune was marred by barely controlled sobs, but the song was given in love, hoping to help her mother find peace at last. When her sad tune ended, Diana gently kissed her mother's forehead and bid her farewell.

Madame Marie waited for Diana to emerge from the room trying to decide what to do next.

"She will have her mother's things of course, heaven knows Hippolyta didn't have much, but it is only fitting that her daughter should have them, now."

"Are you crazy?" asked Claudette "The bracelets alone would fetch a nice price, and I am sure the books are worth something."

Marie glared down the younger women with all the power of hell. "I will not be responsible for robbing an orphan of that which is hers!" Claudette shut up, deciding this was a fight she couldn't win.

"And what of La Princesse, what becomes of her?"

Marie smiled "I have plans for our little Princesse Diana. She is old enough now to begin working, and if my guess is correct, she will only become more beautiful with age." Marie smiled, her eyes holding the look of an expert salesmen. "Of course we won't start her with clients right away, she will begin with the dancing girls, but in a year or two she will be breathtaking, and highly profitable."

Unbeknownst to Claudette and Marie, their discussion was being over heard by the topic of the conversation herself. Behind the slightly cracked door of her mother's room Diana heard her future being planned without her. At first her indignation rose to the surface. How dare they talk about her as if she was an item to be bought or sold! But just as quickly as her anger rose it was doused by the coldness of reality. Diana realized the horrors of her situation. She was a commodity to be sold. She had no skills, no family, the protection of her mother was gone, and never coming back. She knew no other life and had nowhere else to go. Diana was trapped, and Madame Marie was her jailer. Her choice was a simple one; she had no choice. These were the cards she was dealt, and they must be played.


	5. Chapter 4: Time with Friends

**Chapter 4: Time with Friends**

_Cambridge University, 1865_

_Cambridge University_

"HEADS UP!" Clark dove out of the way just before an arrow wedged into the wall behind his head. "OLIVER!" Clark bellowed "WHAT WAS THAT!" Oliver Queen smiled as he crossed the room to retrieve his arrow. "Just testing your reflexes Kent. You are going to be boxing Bruno Mannheim tomorrow, and I want to make sure you're prepared."

"I see, and what may I ask brought on this new found concern for my boxing skills?" Clark eyed his roommate suspiciously. He liked Oliver but sometimes his thrill seeking ways worried Clark. Especially when it evolved using his head for target practice.

"He doesn't want to lose his bet with Wally West." Said Bruce, who was lurking in the shadows by his desk. Both of the other boys jumped at the sound of his voice.

"What the heck Bats! Don't scare us like that." Oliver glared at Bruce, he liked him alright but there was definitely something wrong with him; no human being should ever be that serious.

"How long have you been there Bruce?" Clark took a different view of him then Oliver did. He agreed that Bruce was rather serious at times, but he also saw the heart of gold that his friend liked to keep hidden under his callus exterior.

"I have been here since before either of you came back from class. Just because you didn't take the time to observe your surroundings, don't blame me."

"Sorry we can't all be as perceptive as the Batman." Oliver had taken to calling Bruce _the Batman_ after the first few weeks of the three living together due to Bruce's insomnia, which kept him up into the early hours of the morning. Recently Oliver had shortened the nickname to Bats much to Bruce's frustration.

All three boys were in their first year of attendance at Cambridge, despite the fact that Bruce was two years older than his roommates, and possessed a genius level intellect. In fact Bruce was so intelligent that he could have graduated from university when he was 14. But Alfred felt "Master Bruce," would benefit from having classmates closer to his age.

Bruce was a tall, muscular, dark haired young man, and was greatly admired by the female population where ever he went. And his position as Duke of Strathmore only furthered his interest to the public and press. Although naturally serious by nature, Bruce Wayne possessed enough wit and charm to render an entire assembly helpless to his every command. He was an accomplished dancer and was excellent at cards. But he was also keenly aware that there was a time to have fun and a time to be serious.

Clark Kent was practically Bruce Wayne's polar opposite. Although the son of a wealthy land owner and set to inherit his father's estate, Clark dreamed of becoming a reporter. Ever since he learned to read he would pour over his father's newspaper, fascinated by the stories, and in awe of those who got to see the world's happenings up close. Also, unlike Bruce, Clark was a naturally optimistic and upbeat person. He was a kind young man who tried to make all he came in contact with feel safe and happy. This could lead to others taking advantage of him, or believing he was weak, despite his physical strength. A champion boxer, Clark enjoyed what he considered, "good clean fun." Unlike his two roommates he shied away from loud parties, drinking, and unsavory women. He would have preferred to spend his time out in nature or reading a good book. Although not an intellectual, he possessed a fairly decent mind and a large heart. Loyal to a fault, Clark would stop at nothing to protect/help his fellow man, especially his friends. A fact that was not lost on Oliver and Bruce.

Oliver Queen, rounded out the group. Son and heir to the Duke of Cumberbatch, he took his position in society less seriously then his father would have liked. A thrill seeking playboy who longed for adventure, Oliver was a tall blonde-haired Casanova. He enjoyed drinking, gambling, and womanizing. Due to his carefree and reckless ways, not many noticed his keen analytical mind. Although he performed well in school, Oliver was bored with it. He preferred to learn threw experience rather than textbooks. His fun-loving, prankish personality did much to lift the spirits of both his roommates who had a tendency to get caught up in their studies and seclude themselves from their surroundings.

All three boys, though extremely different, formed a strong friendship during their time together. Their different personalities complemented each other, and a mutual trust and respect grew between the three.

Oliver turned back to Clark. "I am just looking out for your reputation Kent. So far you are the undefeated champ and I would hate to see your hard work go to waste."

"I see. So shortening my life with a head shot will help my boxing skills." Clark glared at his roommate. "And what's with you taking bets against Bruno? I don't think that is very sporting." Oliver rolled his eyes. "O come on Clark, get off the Sunday School soapbox. You should be flattered that I am backing you. I practically bet my father's entire fortune in your favor."

"So in other words no pressure." Oliver smiled "Pretty much, just relax and remember that I believe in you buddy." "Thanks."

"Leave him alone, you're making him nervous." Bruce continued to read his book, hoping Oliver would let the subject drop and find something else to fill his time. Which he did. Unfortunately, that thing was Bruce. Oliver sauntered over to Bruce's desk and leaned against the wall. "So Bats, have you given anymore consideration to my offer?" Bruce glared over the top of his book. "No."

"Oh come on, Kent's coming. It would do you good to have some fun." Bruce returned his attention to his book but continued to address his roommate. "I have fun." Oliver laughed, even Clark snickered. "Please you haven't left this room in weeks unless it's to go to class." Bruce didn't respond. Oliver took this as a sign that he was wearing him down. "You know there will be lots of pretty girls there, and my uncle has the best wine cellar in London." Bruce put his book down and gave Oliver his full attention. "I am sorry, but going to your cousin's ball is not on my list of things to do this weekend." Oliver decided to play his trump card, guilt. "You have to come Bruce, otherwise Clark will be left all alone. You know how he is. The poor farm boy will spend the entire party hiding in a corner. He needs someone to look out for him."

"Why can't you do it?"

"Me? Oh you know I would love to, but sadly I have already pledged my time to another charitable cause."

"What's her name?"

"Rosemary," Oliver said grinning from ear to ear.

Bruce glanced over at Clark, who looked both offended at Oliver's description of him, and hopeful that Bruce wouldn't leave him alone while Oliver chased every pretty girl he could get close to. Bruce sighed. "What time does the train leave?"

_London_

Lady Isabel Queen's debutante ball was the social event of the season. Her father, the Marquis of Bridgmore, had spared no expense. The large ballroom at the family's London house had been decorated with hundreds of candles that illuminated the room and adjoining balcony. The party had started an hour before, and the guests were milling around conversing and dancing, when Oliver, Bruce, and Clark arrived.

"We're late."

"Cheer up Bruce, we are making an entrance." Oliver scanned the room for his _charitable cause._ Upon spotting her, he smiled and headed towards the dance floor.

Clark and Bruce wandered over to the edge of the room. After several moments, Bruce noticed Clark staring at a pretty girl across the room.

"Go talk to her."

"What, now?"

"No wait till the party is over, of course now."

"But what do I say?"

Bruce thought Clark looked like a lamb being led to the slaughter. Deciding the direct approach was best, he shoved his friend in the girl's general direction, and gave him some fool proof advice. "Start with Hello."

_Bruce_

Several society debutantes had been vying for the Duke of Strathmore's attention throughout the night. So far Bruce had been able to avoid dancing with any of them. Never before had he been so grateful that society dictated that a gentleman must ask a lady to dance and not the other way around. It wasn't that they were unattractive girls, quite the opposite. They just all seemed to believe the only way to attract a man was to be unintelligent. As soon as he would start a conversation with a young lady, she would feign ignorance on the topic at hand, and proceed to agree with every syllable he uttered. Bruce groaned inwardly, if he wanted to hear his opinion repeated he would have talked to himself.

Bruce was half way listening to a petite blond with the intellectual capacity of a shoe, when he glanced towards the dance floor. He saw a lovely redhead, in a flowing cream gown, being roughly jerked around by her dance partner. The look on her face was one of poorly concealed frustration. Bruce didn't even remember walking onto the dance floor, but the next thing he remembered was cutting in on the pair.

_Andrea_

If Andrea had to listen to one more word from Captain Harris she was going to scream. The man was deplorable! He seemed to think that he was an expert on women, for what woman wouldn't want to hear him brag for hours on end about the virtues of the British navy? Every time she tried to comment on something he had said, or share her opinion, Harris abruptly cut her off, assuring himself that of course she agreed with him. He could not seem to imagine a woman having her own opinion on such things, let alone an intelligent one. It was INSUFFERABLE! And to make matters worse he was possibly the worst dancer she had ever seen and he was completely oblivious to this fact. Several times he had stepped on her feet and jerked her so violently across the floor she felt as if her arm was coming out of its socket.

Andrea had just about given up on the evening improving, when Harris stopped dancing so abruptly that she had to struggle to keep her balance. She looked towards her savior with more gratitude then she had ever felt towards anyone in her life.

_Bruce_

Bruce tapped the Captain on the shoulder. "Excuse me sir but may I have the pleasure of stealing your dance partner?"

Before Harris had a chance to respond, Bruce had grabbed Andrea by the waist and glided away, leaving poor Captain Harris both confused and embarrassed.

Bruce stared down at his new dance partner. Andrea was a petite little redhead with greenish-blue eyes. Her hair had been piled high with long spiral curls hanging down the back. Her gown was a frothy cream creation, which showed off its wearer's small waist and naturally rosy cheeks. But what intrigued him most was the look of curious intelligence in her eyes.

_Andrea_

Andrea had never been one to faint, as she considered the practice ridiculous, but when Bruce Wayne smiled down at her, his light blue eyes sparkling, she felt as if her knees would give out. Good Grief he was handsome! His 6'3" frame dwarfed her small height by nearly a foot. His dark hair was combed fashionably away from his face. And his well-tailored suit fit his broad shoulders like a glove. Yup, definitely an improvement over Captain Harris.

_Bruce_

Bruce looked over his dance partner once more, his eye catching something pinned to the front of her dress. "I see you support the suffragette movement, Lady Beaumont." He noticed her chin raise slightly and a challenging smile play across her face.

"Yes your grace I do, do you not approve of a woman having opinions?"

Bruce smiled. He was liking this woman more every moment. "Not as long as she doesn't mind sharing them."

_Gotham England, summer 1867_

_Dear Bats,_

_Congratulate me, I have finally found a woman who can stand my company. And even more surprisingly she has agreed to marry me! The lovely Lady Dinah Lance has agreed to become my wife at the end of this month. Of course it is too expensive to travel back to England just for a wedding, so we will remain here in India for the time being. I wish you and Kent could be at the wedding, but you know I have never been one for waiting, and I am afraid the two of you would just be too slow in coming. _

_Sincerely,_

_Oliver Queen._

_P.S. Have you heard about a man named Lex Luthor in the press recently? Please send me all the information you have of him. _

_Bruce_

Bruce read Oliver's letter again. He felt the reason for Oliver's letter had been to acquire the information in the post script, the rest of the letter had just been a formality. Though he did not doubt his friend's excitement in finding a wife. In fact he was somewhat in awe of the woman who had won the heart of England's most notorious playboy. Bruce could only imagine the relief Oliver's father felt upon learning the news that his son had decided on an English girl for a wife. Bruce knew that the Duke of Cumberbatch had been legitimately concerned that his son would take up with a native girl when he went to India a year ago.

After only one year at university, Oliver had decided that academics wasn't his calling and informed his parents that he was going on an extended safari in Africa. After six months, his parents received a letter saying that Oliver was in India and had found something there that required his attention. Now the Duke and Duchess assumed the object of his attention had been Dinah. Bruce however was not so sure, he felt there was something his friend wasn't telling anyone.

Clark had left not long after Oliver, not to India but London. Halfway through his second year at Cambridge, Clark was offered a position writing for the Daily Planet newspaper in London by an old family friend, Mr. Perry White. Seeing this as an opportunity to live his dream, Clark packed his trunks, and with the blessing of his parents, went to London.

Bruce, after the departure of his friends, didn't see the point in taking the slow track through his school career. So putting his genius intellect to good use, he finished roughly three years' worth of university in one. Now he was back in Gotham, running his estate and his late father's business.

Reading back through Oliver's letter, Bruce began reflecting on the last thing he had written. Lex Luthor was a self-made man in his early thirties. A former Science Professor, he had come to Gotham about eight years ago. During that time he had built his own weapons manufacturing company from the ground up and had become the army's main supplier. According to the rumor mill, Lex was now turning his eye towards politics. He had managed to win over the people of Gotham through his generous charitable contributions. Now he had turned his eye towards London. Although he had no proof of any wrong doing on Lex's part, something about the man didn't sit well with Bruce. He began to wonder what exactly Oliver had learned that would make him interested in Luthor's activities.

As Bruce sat mulling this over, there was a knock at the door and Alfred stuck his head in.

"Pardon me Master Bruce, but Lady Andrea Beaumont is in the drawing room and she wishes to see you."

"Thank you Alfred please tell her I will be there momentarily."

The older man nodded his head and shut the door. Bruce's interest was piqued, why would Andrea be here at this hour? It was practically eleven at night. He thought she was in London shopping for their wedding. Three months ago he had finally asked her to marry him. He thought he had noticed a bit of hesitation when she accepted his proposal, but he had tried to brush the anxious feeling off. The thought had plagued him for the past three months and now it returned with full force as he made his way towards the drawing room.

_Andrea_

Andrea nervously paced back and forth on the Persian rug, ignoring the cup of tea Alfred had brought her. Sensing that she wished to be alone with Bruce, Alfred had excused himself and was now waiting patiently behind the door where he could hear without interrupting.

She should have done this months ago, but she had kept putting it off convincing herself that it was all in her head. However, she couldn't ignore her gut feeling any longer.

Bruce entered the drawing room a smile on his face that quickly died once he saw her. "Andrea what's wrong?" It never ceased to amaze her how well he could read people; sometimes she liked to think it was because he knew her so well. But to be honest he was that way with everyone. He was just good at observing others. Andrea began to wring her hands and glance about the room. Bruce took another step towards her. She put a shaking hand up to stop him. Bruce looked at the hand she had raised and saw that she was holding his mother's diamond and sapphire engagement ring out towards him.

_Bruce_

Bruce stared at the ring, what was she doing? Why was she acting this way? Andrea was always upfront with what her thoughts, she wasn't one for beating around the bush. "Andrea what is the meaning of this?"

"Take it back Bruce…Please."

Bruce stared at her in shock. Take it back, what did she mean take it back?

_Andrea_

"Andrea I don't understand, why?" his voice held no anger and that made it so much worse. It would have been easier if he had gotten angry, had fought her decision, instead of just asking for understanding. If he had gotten angry she wouldn't be returning his ring.

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Andrea looked Bruce square in the eyes, her oval face not betraying the turmoil she was going through on the inside.

"Because Bruce, you don't love me."

Such a finalizing statement. Bruce took a moment before answering her accusation. "Andrea, I asked you to marry me."

"Yes you did, but Bruce you don't love me."

Bruce was trying to understand what she was saying. Andrea continued "You are in love with the idea of me, but not me. Bruce, we have a lot in common and we complement each other in many ways," Andrea paused. Bruce was having a hard time seeing how this was grounds for breaking off their engagement but waited for her to continue. "But, something is missing, I can't quite explain it, but something just isn't there between us."

Seeing the stunned look on his face Andrea took Bruce's hand and put the ring in it. "I am sorry." Picking up her coat she turned and left.

_Bruce_

Bruce sat down on the sofa. He needed to think, process what had just happened. As the seconds went by he realized that he should be going after her, begging her to reconsider, promising that he did love her. So why wasn't he? Why didn't he feel angry, or hurt? He should at least feel his wounded pride. But all he felt was guilt that he wasn't rushing after her. Andrea was right. Something was missing between them. He didn't fully understand it either, but he knew she was right. He didn't love her, not the way a husband should love his wife. That thought hurt. Why didn't he love her? She was everything he thought he wanted, so what was wrong? Was it him? Was he just incapable of loving a woman the way she deserved to be? Was he so damaged by his own hurt, that he was unable to love?

As Bruce sat contemplating his heart's desire, Alfred entered the drawing room and began busying himself with dusting the furniture. The same furniture he had cleaned earlier that day, but the old butler could sense that his foster son might need a listening ear.

"Andrea left, she gave me this back." Bruce held up the engagement ring.

"I see." Alfred never stopped his chore, but Bruce knew he had his undivided attention.

"Why Alfred?"

The old man stopped cleaning and turned to face Bruce. "If I may offer my opinion Master Bruce, love is a tricky thing. Sometimes two people make all the sense in the world on a piece of paper, but when they come together they are missing a key ingredient. It doesn't have a name, it can't be explained, and many doubt its existence, but it is real. Many people in the world are similar to each other, but no two are completely alike. If I may sir, people are like puzzle pieces. There may be two who appear to fit together, but the only way they will stay is if they are forced. There is a piece out there that will fit perfectly, but many give up on looking for it. Your puzzle piece is still out there sir, she just hasn't made her appearance yet." After having his say, Alfred left the room allowing Bruce to figure things out on his own.


	6. Chapter 5: Plans set in Motion

**Chapter 5: Plans Set in Motion**

_Gotham England, winter 1867_

_Wayne Manor, Gotham. _

Of course it would rain, it always rained in Gotham. Bruce watched the rain droplets running down the window pain. Alfred entered the study with a tray of tea. "Master Clark is in the library sir." Bruce turned from the window. "Thank you Alfred, he will be leaving in the morning. He needs to get back to London." Alfred nodded, "If I may Master Bruce, how was the funeral?" "It went well, there was a large crowd." Alfred handed Bruce a cup of tea and took one for himself. It was one of the subtle signs that Alfred would never be just a servant. "That is good sir, the late Duke was a well-respected man, and I only hope Master Oliver will be able to fill his father's shoes." Alfred took a sip of tea, giving Bruce a moment to think over what he had said. "I believe there is more to him then people give credit." Alfred smiled in agreement.

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud knocking at the front door. Alfred went to answer it only to return moments later with a very wet Oliver Queen.

The new Duke of Cumberbatch had returned from India with his wife, only to discover that his father was dying. During the funeral, Oliver had barely spoken to anyone. After the burial he had stood alone by the grave until his wife, the new Duchess, had taken him by the hand and led him away. Bruce had never seen his friend look so defeated. He had assumed that Oliver would want to be alone with his family after the funeral, so his sudden appearance in Bruce's home took him by surprise.

"I need your help." Interesting first words Bruce thought as he motioned for his friend to take a seat.

"Kent too, I need you both here for this."

Bruce nodded at Alfred who was already headed towards the door to retrieve Clark. The two men sat in uncomfortable silence. Bruce wanted to question Oliver on his sudden appearance, but also wanted to respect his request to wait for Clark. After what felt like an eternity, Alfred returned with Clark and two more cups of tea. After placing the tray down Alfred excused himself leaving the three to talk.

The three sat in silence while Oliver shakily drank his tea. His two friends observed him while they waited. He had a more rugged appearance since going to India. His hair had been bleached by time in the sun and he was now sporting a mustache. He was also tanner and more muscular. Over all, his time away seemed to have treated him well. However as Clark and Bruce looked closer they noticed other more subtle changes. There were dark circles under his eyes and he seemed to have aged a decade since they had last been together at university.

Finally Oliver finished his tea and set his cup down. He seemed calmer now so his friends waited for him to speak. But instead he reached into his coat and drew out a large envelope. Sliding it across the desk at Bruce, Oliver instructed, "Read that."

Bruce opened the envelope and began reading through its contents, handing the papers he had finished with to Clark. At first what he was looking at didn't make sense, didn't connect. A list of diamond mines in India, drawing of a gun prototype, a newspaper clipping stating the death of a shipping tycoon in America. The more papers he sifted through the more confused he became. Finally he reached the last piece of paper, it was handwritten and smeared from water but still legible. On the paper was a list of notes and calculations. As Bruce read it his heart quickened and sweat began to form on his forehead. After he finished he slowly handed the paper to Clark and waited for him to finish. After a few moments Clark leaned on the desk placing his head in his hands, crumpling the paper in the process. Neither of the other men stopped him; it would be better for them all if it was destroyed.

Finally Clark raised his head. "Luthor," he said in a barely audible whisper. Oliver grimly nodded his head. Bruce stood, turned, and looked back out the window trying desperately to make sense of what he had just learned. Without turning he spoke. "Do you have any proof?" "No."

Clark seemed confused, "you mean to tell me there is no evidence?"

Oliver turned towards his friend. "Open your eyes Kent. He is too good to leave evidence."

Bruce nodded, "No loose ends."

"Exactly" Oliver growled out, his frustration was raising at the futileness of the situation. "He manages to keep himself just far enough away to avoid speculation. That is all we have!" Oliver waved his hand towards the papers spread across the desk. "And it is mostly speculation. Not a speck of irrefutable evidence in it." Feeling exhausted, he sat down and ran his hand through his hair.

Clark had yet to grasp the full gravity of the situation, but knew if anyone found out what they had learned then they were in trouble. "Can we go to the authorities?" He asked in a small voice trying to find an escape from this dilemma.

"I tried," Oliver groaned. "Back in India, but I don't fully know what he is planning myself, and without concrete evidence they wouldn't even listen to me." Oliver lifted his head staring at his friends with bloodshot eyes. "By the time I returned home his cronies had already been there. Everything was destroyed, that envelope was all I could salvage of what I had originally collected." His eyes became black with rage. "One of his goons went after Dinah. She was walking back from a friend's. By the time she got home they had all cleared out, except one who decided to gather up something for himself. He attacked, but she was able to take care of him."

Clark looked puzzled. "_She _took care of him?"

Oliver had mischievous smile on his face. "She is an extraordinary woman, with many skills. By the time I got there, he was beyond help."

Bruce turned back towards his friend trying to conjure up an image of the Duchess of Cumberbatch. He had seen her at the funeral but nothing about her appearance would have suggested she was a capable fighter. If anything she looked as if tending a flower garden would be too taxing for her. Clearly she was an expert at projecting the image she wanted you to believe and not what she was actually capable of. Bruce smiled. He knew she would have had to be special to gain Oliver's attention. Then a new question formed in his mind.

"Oliver how were you able to learn about all of this without drawing attention to yourself?"

His friend gave him grin. "No one suspects the drunken playboy."

"We have to find out what he is planning, and stop him." Both men turned towards Clark. He was standing now looking determined. "We need evidence."

"Easier said than done Kent. I have already been exposed, from now on every move I make will be watched."

"But ours won't." Clark stated. "I am a reporter. Therefore, I have more access to the happenings of the world than you at the moment. I can snoop around, keep my eyes open, and see what he does next."

Oliver began to feel hopeful. "It will be risky, but you're right. We need evidence."

"I may know a few people who can help us gather information," Bruce said. "We can work together, be as subtle as possible." As he spoke Bruce took the paper from Clark's hands and walked towards the fire place. "No loose ends." He threw it in and turned back to his friends. "We have to keep the circle as small as possible. Not endanger anymore people then absolutely necessary." "Agreed," they both said.

"Just one question Bats, how are you going to gather information without drawing attention? You aren't a reporter like Kent."

Bruce flashed an award winning smile. "No one suspects the drunken playboy."


	7. Chapter 6: A Favor

**Chapter 6: A Favor.**

_Gotham England, winter 1867_

_Gotham_

He was watching his 12 year old daughter, Barbara, playing in the garden through the study window, contemplating the joys of childhood and his profound wish that its innocence could remain forever when a visitor was announced.

"Sir, the Duke of Strathmore is here and he wishes to see you."

"Indeed? Did he say what about?"

"No sir, but he did say it was a matter of great concern."

"Very well then Wellington, don't keep his grace waiting, show him in please."

"Very good sir." The portly butler returned shortly followed by the rather illustrious guest. He then made his departure to secure refreshments for his employer and his company.

The two remaining men shook hands and greeted each other with genuine affection. Bruce took a seat opposite his godfather, observing the changes that had taken place since their last encounter. Bruce was happy to see that despite a few new gray hairs no other changes had taken place.

A man in late middle age with graying hair and a stiff no nonsense mustache, Sir James Gordon had served his Queen and country for many years in the royal navy. Upon his retirement he returned home to the two great joys of his heart, his beloved daughter and his English greyhound. Several months into his retirement, however, he discovered that after so many years in services he preferred a more active lifestyle. So Sir James Gordon became commander in chief of the Gotham police force.

Commissioner Gordon, as he was now known, was well respected both in the community and among his fellow police officers. A man with the manners of a country gentleman and none of the false flattery of a courtier, his honest non assuming character endeared him to all whom he came in contact with.

A distant cousin of the late Duke of Strathmore, he had been chosen as godfather of Thomas Wayne's only son Bruce. Although an intensely loyal person and felt it was his duty both legally and morally, James had been unable to take custody of Bruce following his parents' death due to his naval career and lack of married standing. So with the consulting of lawyers and the Wayne's will, James chose Alfred Pennyworth as the new guardian of his godson. Although there were no doubts in his mind of Alfred's capability of raising Bruce, and in fact he felt Alfred had a better grasp on the raising of a future peer of the realm then he himself did, the guilt of shirking his responsibility to the young boy never abased itself. For someone who felt so intensely his duty to what was right, and prided himself on honoring his commitments, not being able to accept the responsibility bestowed upon him by his cousin shook him to his core. For the rest of his days he would regret the decision to place Bruce in another's care, and often found himself considering if he could possibly have prevented the young man's melancholia, had he been around during the boy's childhood. After his return to England four years ago, he had attempted to befriend his godson, whom he had previously only communicated with through letters, gifts and infrequent visits while on leave. If he had feared that Bruce was angry with him for his abandonment, James was mistaken. Bruce felt no ill will towards his godfather and was in fact grateful for the profound interest the man had taken in him despite his long and distant absence.

During his infrequent leaves, James Gordon had also managed to procure for himself a wife. And during his time abroad he became a father back at home. Barbara was the light of his life, and his new family had also added to Bruce's surrogate family tree. Bruce had viewed James' wife as somewhat of a kindly aunt whom he would occasionally visit during the summer, and Barbara was like having a younger sister tagging along like a little shadow.

"Well my boy what brings you out of seclusion? You have been hulled up in that grand house of yours for weeks," James teasingly grinned.

Bruce's smile faded and his face grew serious. "I have come to request a favor of you Commissioner."

_Gotham England, fall 1868_

_Barbara,_

Barbara ran up the stairs to the front door, took out her key and walked into the foyer of her father's town house. She didn't bother knocking because there was no one there to answer. Wellington had already gone home for the day, as had the cook, chambermaid, and Mrs. Wentworth the housekeeper. Normally Barbara's mother was present, but she was visiting her sister in York and wouldn't be back until Monday. Barbara didn't mind being home alone. She had never been afraid of loneliness; in fact she quite enjoyed having the whole house to herself. She knew her father would be home from work soon and decided that his absence was the perfect opportunity to try out her new roller skates* on the marble-floored hallway. Barbara rushed up the stairs two at a time and raced to her bedroom, eager to risk her neck in this new endeavor. Upon entering her room she ran to the wardrobe to retrieve her skates. Being a naturally impulsive creature, Barbara's armoire usually resembled a war torn country instead of a well-organized closet. So finding her new toy was more difficult than she had originally perceived. While on her knees digging through a pile of scarves and petticoats, she heard the soft sound of squeaking hinges. Assuming it was her father returned, early she turned, ready to give a full explanation for the present state of her bedroom floor. But instead of her father Barbara found herself starring into the cold mirthful eyes of a monster.

Pasty, almost translucent skin pulled grotesquely across its face. There didn't seem to be enough skin to stretch, so large was the demon's smile. The corners of his mouth where unnaturally high, making his mouth almost twice as long as it should have been. At first his strange deadly pale skin tone appeared to be achieved through make-up, until Barbara saw the icy blue veins running across his cheek and sickeningly realized that was the monsters true skin. He blended suspiciously well with his surroundings, despite being clad in a purple suit. His greasy unwashed hair had almost a green tint to it, and was partially slicked back away from half his face. The rest of his hair had freed itself, and was now hanging haphazardly in front of his face occasionally sticking to his greasy forehead. The creature licked his lips before uttering a truly terrifying sound. A mix between a scream and a laugh echoed from his misshapen mouth. Revealing yellowed teeth and sending chills down the girl's spine.

"Well, well, well, what have we here? Playing games my dear?" Another bone chilling laugh, if it could be called that, burst forth. Barbara, frozen in fear, helplessly watched as the horrifying clownish figure approached her. Before long she was completely engulfed in his shadow as he loomed above her.

"Aw poor little girl, you have no one to play with." The Clown leaned down, "Let's play a game."

_Commissioner Gordon,_

Commissioner Gordon could sense that something was terribly wrong as soon as he saw the front door of his home swinging open. Slowly he climbed the stairs and entered his house, dreading what he would find. He was taken aback when everything was found unchanged. Nothing was missing or out of place. Perhaps the door simply blew open. Then why did he still feel uneasy? What was he missing?

_"__Barbara?" _Gordon realized what was wrong was the eerie quite that engulfed his house. Where was his daughter? She should have gotten home long ago.

"Barbara?" he called, no response. "Barbara?!" his sense of urgency was building, still no response. "BARBARA!" The Commissioner began running through the house searching for his child. Barbara was an active girl and spent very little time in her room, preferring the gardens or library for her activities, so her father had checked those locations first. However when she was not there, he became frantic and bolted up the stairs yelling her name. Arriving in front of the closed door of her bedroom he threw it open and stopped, suddenly immobile. The sight that met his eyes was more horrifying then anything he had ever witnessed.

The room was completely destroyed. The canopy of the four poster bed had been ripped down and was now laying half on the bed, half on the floor. The vanity mirror was broken and shards of glass lay scattered across the floor. Clearly, it had been pushed over in an attempt to block something, or someone. Hat boxes and clothes were scattered everywhere and one of the armoire doors was unhinged. As he walked forward into the mayhem that had once been his daughter's bedroom, the Commissioner was brought back from his shocked stupor when he heard the crunching of glass beneath his feet. Looking down, he saw the remains of what had once been a beautiful porcelain china doll. Bending down, he picked up what remained of his last birthday gift to his little girl. Turning the doll over he had to fight not to drop it in horror. Pinned to the front of the dolls dress was a large playing card, the Joker. And smeared across the card was the word "Informant," written in blood. _"Blood, whose blood? BARBARA!" _Frantically James looked around the room, too terrified to even call her name. Suddenly he saw a white boot sticking out from underneath the canopy that now draped across the floor. Oblivious of the broken glass scattered across the floor, he uncovered his daughter and knelt beside her. Barbara lay in a pool of blood, her yellow dress ripped and stained with red. Upon inspection her father realized that the blood was coming from several knife wounds in her legs, and a gunshot wound in her back. Convinced his only child was dead, Commissioner Gordon gathered her in his arms and began to sob. His cry subsided however once Barbara moaned in pain.

_"__Alive, she's ALIVE!" _Though not a strictly religious man James Gordon immediately thanked God for sparring his daughter's life.

_Luthor, _

"Is it done? Is the girl dead?" Lex Luthor was busy enjoying his evening tea and did not like being interrupted. However he needed to insure that the matter had gone off without a hitch.

"Not when I left, but if her father doesn't hurry home she soon will be."

"WHAT!" Luthor leapt to his feet, spilling tea on the fine Persian rug. "You left the job half done?!"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, what a waste of perfectly good tea, that stains you know."

"ENOUGH ABOUT THE TEA!" Luthor was so mad he could feel his blood boiling. "Give me one good reason why I should not kill you where you stand."

The man in the blood stained purple suit smiled and slowly stood so he was on eye level with his employer. "Because Lexie, I have just done you a favor. Free of charge I might add."

Luthor ground his teeth in frustration. This impudent clown was taxing his nerves. He had had men killed with less grievous offenses, but he had to admit Jack Napier had his uses. Luthor had never met someone so apt at killing before Napier; though sometimes the man's flare for the dramatic seemed unnecessary. As long as he got the job done Luthor didn't much care in what fashion. He was much more focused on the big picture. Reminding himself of this fact he addressed Napier.

"How so?" Napier smiled.

"If I had killed that girl, then her father would have nothing left to protect."

Luthor glared at the other man but grunted for him to continue.

"I know Gordon's type, he is an honest man, and honest men will never give up an honest fight. However if the other side plays dirty in some way, like threatening the fragile life of a loved one, then fear takes over and the honest man will do anything short of joining the enemy cause to protect his loved one. But if you take that leverage away all of a sudden it is a fair fight again, and now the honest man will have revenge on his side and a lost soul to avenge. An honest man with a score to be settled will never give up."

Luthor relaxed his stance as he contemplated what the clown had said. He had to admit there was validity to it.

"Very well, we do this your way."

Luthor didn't think it was possible but Napier's smile actually grew wider sending chills down Luthor's spine.

_Gordon,_

James Gordon was sitting in his study, waiting for Doctor Leslie Tompkins to complete her examination of Barbara. His wife was at their daughter's side, but he couldn't look at her without being wrought with guilt. Doctor Leslie had informed them that Barbara had been paralyzed from the waist down, due to the damage done to her spine from the shot wound, and would most likely never walk again. For all intents and purposes Barbara was taking it well. His daughter had always been a realist, and although discouraged and upset over her diagnosis, she refused to simply give up on life because it would no longer be the same. In the weeks since the attack, Barbara had done all in her power to speed along her recovery and keep busy. Her parents knew this was as much an attempt to banish the nightmares that now plagued her sleep as to keep herself from boredom. The day following the attack, Bruce had appeared at Gordon's house. At first Gordon had lashed out at his godson, in his anger blaming Bruce and himself for what had happened to his daughter. He now regretted his outburst of anger, but not his decision to cease his assistance in Bruce's investigation of Luthor.

Feeling his daughter had a right to know why her life had been changed forever and her father's involvement in it, he told her of his workings with Bruce in investigating the activities of Lex Luthor, as well as his decision to cease his actions in the process.

_"__Barbara listen to me, almost a year ago Bruce Wayne asked for my help in investigating a man named Lex Luthor. Bruce suspects him of trying to sell weapons to enemies of the crown and trying to take over the government, among other things. Through my work with the police we were able to learn more of his activities and came very close to procuring hard evidence of his guilt."_

_"__Why are you telling me this Father?" _

_"__Because two days before you were attacked an associate of Mr. Luthor came to me at the office. He said that his employer knew I was investigating his activities and advised me to back off. I refused, saying that my loyalty was to justice. He said that if I didn't listen to his advice Mr. Luthor would do his best to convince me. That is why you were attacked, because of me."_

She had sat there in complete shock for what seemed like an eternity, and then she had reached out and taken her father's hand in hers. Angry fire blazed in her eyes matching the tone of her red hair.

_"__Father you can't stop helping Bruce, that monster must be brought to justice!"_

_"__No Barbara it is too dangerous I won't let anything else happen to you."_

_"__WHAT ABOUT SOMEONE ELSE! Father if you leave this be, who will keep that awful man from hurting someone else."_

He shook his head, tears streaming down his face. _"No Barbara I won't lose you, I am finished."_

_"__If you won't help Bruce then I WILL!" _

James had let that last comment pass at the time, loath to bring up the fact that Barbara would be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of her life, and he didn't see how she could possibly help Bruce in such a situation. If there was any benefit to his daughter's condition it was that he was sure she would be unable to involve herself in any dangerous activities.

He shouldn't have underestimated her. Barbara Gordon was as clever as she was stubborn, and, as many throughout history have learned, there is nothing a stubborn woman can't do once she has made up her mind.


	8. Chapter 7: What Happens on a Sunday

**Chapter 7: Soldiers and Angels **

_Paris France, 1870_

_Diana,_

"Four kings, pay up." Diana laid her cards down on the table and began to rub her neck. It was a Sunday which meant peoples consciences had kicked in, and it was pouring down rain so most would be at home trying to keep themselves warm while reflecting on their sins, instead of sitting in this establishment. Diana found it humorous that so many seemed to believe that one day of repentance could erase a week's worth of folly. Especially since come Monday morning most would return to the same vices they had sworn to forsake the day before.

Still Diana loved Sundays. Since professional sinners such as prostitutes didn't seem welcome at confession, they had the day to themselves. Currently Diana was spending her precious leisure time involved in a poker game. Because the girls had little to no money of their own, they were playing for peanuts, literally. It had been discovered long ago that playing for higher stakes, such as money or personal possessions, caused dissention in the ranks. No sooner would a game end, the winner departing with her spoils, than the loser would attempt to take back what had been lost, sometimes by force if necessary. So a rule had been passed; now the only currency allowed to be used was acts of service, or as in most cases including this one, peanuts.

While the cards were being dealt for the next hand Diana took a moment to observe her playing partners. Mari was dealing cards quick as lightning. The dark skinned beauty was cunning as a fox, and mischievous as a cat: a true Vixen. Sitting to the right of Mari was Shayera; the girl had a temper to match her auburn hair and possibly the shortest fuse in history. Shayera's sharp tongue often got her into trouble. In fact, despite her continual losing streak, the only reason she was still playing cards with them was because everyone else refused to allow her to join their games. Apparently when you tip over the card table and threaten to bash in the winner's head people take offense. So here sat the sulky redhead, her emerald eyes brimming with frustration and her mouth pinched into a most unattractive frown in an attempt to keep her over active temper from boiling to the surface. The fourth and final member of their little party was Donna. Donna was the youngest of the prostitutes, a title once held by Diana herself, a title she had mixed feelings about relinquishing to the 15 year old. Donna had only been at the brothel for a few months, and since her arrival Diana had taken her under her wing, viewing the younger girl as a little sister.

Diana's brow furrowed in concern as she continued to think about Donna, oblivious to the happenings around her, lost in thought. Donna was not faring well in the whore house, for where Diana had been raised here and this being the only life she knew, Donna had not. No one had known anything about Donna when she arrived. Unlike the other prostitutes who were always trying to outdo each other with their mostly real but slightly fabricated back stories, Donna had kept to herself and not spoken much to anyone. Finally, after three weeks Diana found the girl hunched in a corner. Sitting down next to her, Diana asked what was wrong, then the entire story, and quite a few tears, came out.

Unlike many of the other prostitutes who had no relatives or had run away from the ones they did have, Donna had a family, and a rather large one at that. The eldest of eight, Donna's background was that of an extremely poor, low class family, but a very close one. Her father, a tanner, had barely enough money to put food on the table, let alone to clothe and house his large family, but he had loved them all and done his best. However, as time went on and more and more children were added to the brood, he had had to make a painful decision. And so Donna was sent out into the world to take care of herself, and ease the financial burden at home. Accompanied by her family's well wishes and prayers, she had left her small town for Paris. Upon arriving the only work she could find was at Madame Marie's. Donna's parents were very religious people, and the knowledge that they would strongly disapprove of her new profession as a whore, had they known about it, was an issue of great pain and shame to the teenage girl. Also Donna was horribly homesick for the company of her many brothers and sisters, as well as her loving parents.

Another problem Diana had noticed with Donna's adjusting to her new life was that Donna was a dreamer. She craved a life of love and family, two things not found in a Parisian whore house.

Diana was brought back to the present by the sound of Shayera's tightly wound spring beginning to uncoil.

"You're a LIAR MARI!" Shayera leapt to her feet and flung the cards in the other woman's face. Mari stood, also ready to fight. Diana glanced at Donna, the younger girl was white as a sheet. Diana began to wonder what she had missed.

"John likes attractive women my dear and I am afraid you missed out when God gave that virtue!" Mari spat. There it was! It never ceased to amaze Diana how worked up women could get about men.

John Stewart was one of the security Madame had employed. An American and former slave, he had managed to capture the attentions of Mari, but the heart of Shayera.

Shayera turned the same color as her hair, green fire blazing in her eyes. "Aww that's it! Less talking more HITTING!" Shayera flew through the air, almost as if she had wings, connecting her fist with Mari's jaw. Mari grabbed a hand full of auburn hair and yanked, toppling both women back over the table and landing them on the floor. The other girls had quickly gathered round. They had anticipated the fight now taking place as soon as Mari made her original insinuation. Diana rounded the table to find Shayera biting Mari's arm, while Mari used her free hand to rip out handfuls of red hair. Diana had always been stronger than most women, and now decided to put that strength to good use, trying to keep the two from killing each other. After several failed attempts to keep flailing limbs from connecting, assistance arrived in the form of John Stewart and a very irate Madame Marie.

John and Diana managed to separate Shayera and Mari, while Madame screamed, and then sent them to their rooms like a couple of misbehaved children.

"I deplore Sundays, this is what happens when you give working girls free time- misery nothing but MISERY!" Madame continued to complain all the way back to her office. After she left, the others continued in their amusements. Diana sat back down next to Donna, exhausted from trying to keep her friends from killing each other.

_"__Ridiculous" _Diana thought. _"Absolutely ridiculous getting that worked up over a man."_ Oh she admitted John was attractive, but surely he wasn't worth all this fuss. In her closed-off world Diana had never truly gotten to know any man. In her world she gave them what they wanted and they left. It was as simple as that. They had no names, no ambitions or dreams, they were nothingness, like steam evaporating off a boiling pot, and she simply gave them no thought. The truth was Diana had no true idea of the character of man, or of the feelings that can develop between a man and a woman. Even though she couldn't bring herself to believe all the things her mother had taught her about man's evil ways, she had still not had a chance to form her own opinion. For although she saw men every day, the closest she had ever come to forming a real acquaintance with a male had been her one encounter with a little English boy many years ago. So long ago in fact that the memory was all but forgotten.

Diana was interrupted from her musings by the sound of the front door being blown open by a gust of wind. Blown in along with the rain was a very wet man. Seeing as how everyone else was having such a nice time Diana decided to see to the new comer herself.

"Jean, wine," she snapped and then took a glass over to the stranger who was watching the rainfall through the window.

"Something to warm you _Monsieur_?" Diana held the glass out.

"_Merci Mademoiselle_." The gentleman tipped his hat and took a seat, as well as the glass.

Diana raised an eye brow. Such courtesy, it was a rare thing around here. Intrigued by this polite new comer she took a seat opposite him.

The stranger sipped his wine and turned towards Diana. "What is your name?"

She was taken aback. She couldn't remember the last time a customer had asked her name. "Diana, and yours?"

"_J'onn Jones_, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Diana."

Diana smiled. This man was unlike any she had ever met. Taking a moment to observe him she noted how expensive his clothing was; this piqued her curiosity. Most of the men they served where sailors or common men. Occasionally they would get an official who didn't want to be recognized or a priest who, for obvious reasons, kept a low profile, but hardly ever a gentleman. And seeing as how the brothel was the nicest building for blocks, she couldn't imagine what business he could possibly have this near the docks.

As if he could read her mind, _Monsieur Jones_ answered the question she had yet to ask. "I am a detective, and I came here to gather information."

Intrigued, Diana began to question Jones on his line of work, she found it fascinating. As for the detective himself, she felt safe speaking with him. He had a wonderful fatherly quality, and for Diana who had never known such a thing, she found it comforting. After further discussion Jones informed Diana that he hoped some of the prostitutes might have information he could use.

"Well you won't find much here, especially on a Sunday, nothing is happening."

"Something is always happening Diana, even if you can't see it."


	9. Chapter 8: Run Away

**Sorry it took so long but here is the next chapter, I hope you enjoy and please review, this is my first fanfic and I could really use some feed back. :) **

**Chapter 8: Run Away**

_Paris France, winter 1872_

_Diana,_

Diana pulled her pillow over her head trying to block out the sound of someone knocking at her door. She didn't care who or how important, it was far too early to be up. Groaning she gave up on going back to sleep and got up to open the door. The room was so small that if she stretched she could've opened the door without getting out of bed, but she wanted to look as intimidating as possible when she told her annoying visitor to leave. As soon as she unlocked it the door swung open and Diana found herself enveloped in a rib injuring hug.

"OH DIANA YOU JUST WON'T BELIEVE IT, I CAN'T BELIEVE IT, COULD THERE BE ANYTHING MORE WONDERFUL!"

Diana pried herself loose from Donna's embrace, and held the 17 year old at arm's length. "Donna, slow down, and quieter." Donna took a deep breath but still couldn't contain her excitement. "OH DIANA HE ASKED ME!"

Diana shook her head still not understanding. "Who asked you what?"

"HE ASKED ME TO MARRY HIM!" Diana had never actually heard those words in that order before so it took a minute to process. "Who?" Donna sighed and shook her head clearly annoyed at her friend's lack of comprehension, but she was far too excited for that feeling to last long. Taking Diana's hands she explained. "Philippe! He asked me to marry him!"

Diana stared at her friend dumbfounded. "But….but you hardly know him."

"Really Diana I've known him long enough, you said yourself he was nice."

"I said he _seemed_ nice, but that was because I could think of nothing better to say."

Donna looked hurt "DIANA! Don't be cruel, he is wonderful."

"Donna listen to me what do you even know about him? Does he have a job, and where will you live?"

"He _HAD _a job but he is leaving it, he wants to make an honest living, so we are going to America!" Donna triumphantly announced as if this solved all her problems instead of creating a hundred more.

Diana sat down on her bed feeling completely drained after hearing that last bit of news. "And how do you plan on getting to America?" She was trying desperately to stay calm instead of slapping the younger girl and pointing out the many fallacies in her plan.

Donna began to rub her hands together nervously. "Actually I was hoping you would lend us the money to…"

"DONNA!" Diana couldn't believe what she was hearing did Donna really expect her help in eloping with a man she barely knew to a foreign country a continent away. She was about to tell her that this was the stupidest thing she had ever heard when Donna began to cry.

"Oh please Diana this is all I ever wanted, I just can't stay here another minute I hate it here! And Philippe does love me, he's kind and actually wants to marry me. WHO ELSE WILL MARRY A WHORE?" Diana stared at her unable to speak. Donna sat next to her. "Please I know what I am doing, this isn't perfect but it is better then what I have now." Diana sighed "Let me think about it."

Donna gave her another rib cracking hug. "The boat leaves tonight, Philippe and I are going to meet in front of Monsieur Jacques's warehouse at 10:30pm." Diana nodded her head "_IF_ I decide to help I will meet you there."

_Diana,_

Diana stared at the clock again as she paced the tiny room. 10:05 if she didn't leave soon she wouldn't make it in time to meet Donna, assuming she was going to. What was Donna thinking? It would be incredibly difficult for her in America, she didn't even know how to read French, let alone English. Her education was nonexistent and her skills were just about the same. How would she survive in a foreign country an entire CONTENANT away? Not to mention going with a man she barely knew. As far as Diana was concerned, the entire scheme was foolhardy and doomed for failure. But, Donna did genuinely seem to have a strong affection for him. (Diana couldn't conceive it as _love, _which she barely believed in.) And Donna was miserable in the brothel Diana knew that, even a blind women would have been able to see the young girl's growing depression. Diana had spent some months trying to lift her young friend's spirits to no avail, it wasn't until Philippe showed up roughly a month ago that Donna had regained her more cheerful disposition. Was Philippe truly the cause of Donna's newfound happiness, could he continue to make her happy, was this just a passing fancy, and finally America?

Diana stopped her pacing and sat down on her bed. If this would make her friend happy shouldn't she help her in any way she could? Diana stared at her closed door. She would have to decide soon, after the last client had left she had purposely left her door closed knowing the others would assume she was still working, but if she didn't leave now she wouldn't make it back before someone became suspicious. Making up her mind she rose and walked to the small chest in the corner. Donna had not asked for her approval or advice only her help, and so for love of a friend she would help, and who knew maybe things would turn out alright for the young couple.

Rummaging through various articles of frilly undergarments Diana finally located them. Holding them up to the light of the candle she examined the twin silver bracelets that were her most prized possessions. Of the few things left to her after her mother's death these bracelets were her favorite. Because they had been her mother's and her grandmother's before her. They were special, one of a kind, and to Diana the only link to her heritage she had. The portrait of her grandparents meant nothing to her. She wasn't even aware that the couple in the painting were her grandparents, since Hippolyta mentioned them so little and even then only Diana's grandmother ever came up in conversation. Even though Diana loved the books and pored over the stories they told, they had been written by someone else. But the bracelets were different Hippolyta had told her that they were real silver, designed specifically for Hera. That made them special and the fact that Hippolyta had prized them made them even more so. Donna had asked for money, but Diana didn't have any. This was all she had that was worth anything, and she determined to give them to her friend to use in starting her new life.

Gently setting down the bracelets, Diana hurriedly dressed. She found it amusing that despite the fact that her underwear was the finest Madame Marie could afford, her only legitimate article of clothing was one old dark blue dress, which no matter how hard she tried was too small to fully button. She finally gave up and left the top two buttons undone and the others straining in protest. Reverently she put on her mother's bracelets, taking a moment to admire the tiny diamond stars inlaid on the front; they were heavier then she remembered, covering from her wrist quite a ways up her forearm. As a child, Diana had imagined that the bracelets were strong enough to stop bullets. Smiling at that memory, she carefully pulled her sleeves down, concealing the silver beneath them. As she headed towards the window to sneak out, she grabbed a scarf off a peg on the wall. It was old and tattered with faded colors of red and blue. Out of habit, her fingers brushed the golden embroidered name on the inside before pulling it over her head and ears, fastening it under her chin, and then gracefully climbing out the window.

_Paris,_

The wind was blowing hard and it had begun to snow, Diana hurried as fast as she could hoping she would make it before they left. As she darted down an alley that led to Monsieur Jacques's warehouse, she slowed to catch her breath. She could see the warehouse now at the end of the alleyway, as she came closer, Diana sensed something was wrong. She could see Donna and Philippe, but there appeared to be a third person. When Diana saw a gun appear, she ducked behind some crates and watched a monster emerge from the shadows.

"My dear Phillip you wound me, running off like that. After I kindly gave you a job, tsk tsk tsk. You must have known we would find you."

"Please! I promise I won't say anything, I don't want any trouble; I just want to leave. I'll go far away and won't cause you any problems, I promise!"

"Ah but you see my dear boy, _YOU ARE THE PROBLEM_."

The fear coursing through Philippe's body caused him to shake uncontrollably. The clownish man laughed at the boy's fear as if this was all some grand game. "P…Please." He whispered.

"Well since you asked nicely and since you have this lovely young girl with you I guess I can be nice."

Philippe sighed "Thank …."

"I'll make it quick!"

_BAM_

Philippe fell to the ground.

_BAM!_

Donna slumped to the ground, a river of red flowed from her head onto the fresh snow. The clownish murderer fired off two more shots, just to be certain his victims were dead before letting out a horrific laugh that chilled the air.

_Diana,_

Diana watched in horror. Before she could stop herself, a scream escaped her throat. Diana instantly covered her mouth, but it was too late the clown had heard her.

"Hiding huh? That's no fun. Guess it's my turn to seek." More laughter.

Diana turned and ran as fast as she could. Luckily, the clown had been too busy laughing to follow at first. But he soon recovered and was chasing her down the street, laughing and firing bullets haphazardly.

"_Any second now one of those bullets is going to hit me and then I'll be dead." _Diana frantically racked her brain on how to out maneuver this mad man. She managed to stall him for a second when she knocked over some boxes in his path.

After a while Diana was starting to slow down. "_How did the monster do it? he had been chasing her for blocks yet he never slowed, and still managed to keep up that maddening laughter." _

Jumping over an alley fence, Diana managed to shake him off, but she knew it would only be momentary. She was becoming desperate. Where could she hide?

Suddenly, Diana ran into what felt like a brick wall and fell back on the ground. She found herself staring at a pair of men's shoes and panicked, he had caught her! To hands grabbed her and Diana fought to get free. It wasn't until she realized that her captor was calling her by name that she stopped struggling and looked in his face.

"_J'onn!" _Diana felt so relieved she began to cry. J'onn's voice was full of concern.

"Diana what's wrong, why are you running?"

Diana grabbed him by the shoulders as the panic came back. "You've got to help me. He killed her and now that clown's going to kill me! Please I have to hide, WHERE CAN I HIDE?!"

J'onn may not have understood what Diana was talking about, but the sound of a blood curdling laugh followed by gun shots spurred him into action. Taking Diana by the arm, he pulled her down various streets until they were back at the docks.

"Quickly Diana before he catches up, tell me what happened."

Diana explained how she had seen Donna and Philippe die.

"Tell me Diana what does this man look like? And be quick, we haven't much time."

"He…He looks like a clown, a crazy clown! His skin is extremely white. I couldn't tell if it was make up but I don't think it was. He wore a purple suit, and his mouth….Oh J'onn his mouth I have never seen anything like it. It's like it was _CUT_ into a smile!"

J'onn stood silently during her story his face betraying nothing. "The Joker." He whispered so quietly that Diana wasn't sure she heard correctly.

"Come!" Grabbing her by the arm, J'onn pulled Diana down the docks and onto a ship.

Diana wasn't sure what he said to the captain but as soon as the two men finished talking, the crew sprang into action preparing to ship out.

Turning back to her, J'onn began speaking in French again. "Diana, you are to stay on this ship the captain has agreed to take you to London England."

"_England? Why was she going to England?" _Diana wasn't sure she liked this plan, but she was too frightened to argue.

"When you get there find my friend. He will keep you safe." J'onn had taken out a piece of paper and was writing something down. "Give him this note…"

_BAM! BAM! BAM!_

The sound of gunshots pierced the night, followed by laughter. J'onn shoved the half written note into Diana's hand before shoving her down onto the deck and commanding her not to move. The gunshots had thoroughly scared the crew, and J'onn barely had time to leap off the boat to the dock before the ship was gone. Diana couldn't see what was going on but she heard the sound of gunshots as the ship sailed away, she also heard a crew member ask God to grant mercy to that poor soul. She assumed he had meant J'onn but did that mean he was dead? Had the _"Joker"_ killed him? Diana didn't know how long she laid on the deck but it felt like hours. Eventually a crew member came over and helped her up.

Sitting on a barrel, Diana starred out over the water. She couldn't see Paris anymore. _"England, how long will I have to be there? Will J'onn come find me, is he even alive? Oh if only he had had time to tell me who this friend is." _As Diana sat pondering this she remembered the note he had shoved into her hands, carefully she straightened out the paper and attempted to read it. That was pointless, she didn't know what language it was, but it was not one she knew. Maybe it was English, after all if this friend lived in England he probably spoke English. Diana fought the urge to cry, what was she going to do? She couldn't very well go around showing every person in England this piece of paper and hope one of them was the intended recipient, and she knew it would be foolish to return to Paris. Assuming England was where this ship was taking her, she couldn't remember if J'onn had paid the captain and she knew from experience that an unpaid sailor was not to be trusted. Slowly Diana pulled her sleeves down, making sure no one could see her bracelets. There was no way she was giving them up now, they were all she had.


	10. Chapter 9: Forgetful

**Chapter 9: Forgetful **

_Gotham England, winter 1872_

_Bruce,_

Bruce checked the mirror straitening his collar. He should have Alfred give the staff the rest of the week off; he wouldn't need them while he was in London and Alfred kept his home in such impeccable order, he couldn't imagine there was anything that demanded their immediate attention. He wished Alfred would take a vacation as well, but the old butler would be able to think of a thousand reasons why that was impossible so he wasn't even going to try.

As he reached for his cuff links, Bruce's eye caught sight of something on the end of his dresser top. "How had that gotten there?" Bruce reached down and picked up his mother's engagement ring. He hadn't looked at that ring in over five years. Actually, he had forgotten about it completely. So what was it doing on his dresser? He had a vague memory of a conversation with Alfred about putting it in the family safe at the bank in London. He might as well put it in the safe, it wasn't like he was planning on using it, and it certainly didn't belong drifting around the house where it could be lost or damaged. After Andrea, he had tried to find someone else but none could match her. Given time, he came to agree with her decision to end things. Andrea was now happily engaged to some obscure lord. Bruce was happy for her, but had decided not to pursue a relationship with another woman. Despite Alfred's insistence that he needed a wife, Bruce disagreed. He was better off alone. He shoved the ring in his pocket, deciding that before he left London it would be where it belonged.


	11. Chapter 10: London

**For the record the note from J'onn to Bruce is unfinished and that is why it cuts off. Just in case of confusion. **

**Chapter 10: London **

_London England, winter 1872_

_Diana,_

Diana had been in London for a week and she was even more confused now than when she had arrived. She had wandered the streets of this strange city night and day. At first she tried to find someone to help her, but she couldn't understand anything anyone said and one man had even chased her away with a stick! She had barely slept, partly because she was afraid she would freeze to death if she stopped moving and also because every time she closed her eyes she saw that awful creature, and Donna laying on the ground, her blood staining the snow. No, sleep had not been something she had done much of and as a result she was so tired that she stumbled around like someone who had lost their wits.

As Diana leaned against a wall to rest she smelled fresh bread coming from a vendor stall outside what appeared to be a bakery. As if on cue, her stomach reminded her that she also hadn't eaten in several days. She was amazed that she was even standing, considering how long it had been. The smell of that bread was almost more then she could take! But she didn't have any money. Fingering her bracelet, Diana quickly put that idea out of her mind. Even if she was willing to give up her only tie to her mother, the vendor might not even believe it was real. No she wouldn't give up her bracelets.

Finally the smell was more then she could take; Diana wasn't even aware that she had taken the roll until she heard a man yelling at her. She tried to run, but in her weakened state she didn't make it very far before the constable caught up to her.

_"__Perfect" _Diana thought. _"The ONE time in my life I try to steal something and there is a constable right there!" _Deciding it wasn't worth the fight, Diana prepared to give the man the roll. But as she turned and raised her arm to hand it to him her sleeve slipped back and her silver bracelet gleamed in the sunlight. Diana quickly pulled her sleeve down not wanting someone to see it and try to steel them from her. But the constable had different plans.

_London,_

Constable Joseph Taylor had been having a nice day, an easy day patrolling a random slum marketplace. He hadn't had a single incident since his shift started, and in a mere two hours he would be done. Yes, this was a good day. Deciding that he could go for some lunch before finishing up, he headed over to a bakery. The baker's wife was working a vendor stand outside the store, so he stopped to ask her what she was asking for her cinnamon rolls. As he bartered, he noticed a woman drifting towards the stand. She looked half out of her mind, and was constantly staring over her shoulder, as if she expected someone to grab her. She was wearing a tight fitting dark blue dress that left little to the imagination, and a tattered scarf that was probably once on her head but had fall down around her neck. Her thick raven hair was escaping its loose braid and whipping around her face, making her look like some restless spirit. Despite her wild appearance, she was still a strikingly beautiful woman. Constable Taylor wondered how good she would look if she was cleaned up. As he mused, the woman stumbled towards the stall making sole eye contact with the rolls, apparently oblivious to himself and the baker's wife. Stunned, the Constable watched her pick up a roll and calmly walk away.

Had that woman just stolen something so blatantly while a constable stood barely two feet from her? The baker's wife's indignant yell confirmed it and Taylor took off after the girl, calling for her to stop. The woman was clearly out of her mind. He would just take the roll back and let her wander off. After all, he didn't feel like having his good day ruined by taking some lunatic off to jail.

It didn't take long to catch up to her, and the way she had been stumbling around, he doubted if she would even be able to stand much longer. The girl turned around holding out the roll, Taylor went to take it when her obviously too short sleeve slipped down to her elbow exposing her forearm and a very large SILVER BRACELET! She quickly dropped the roll and pulled the sleeve down. "Well that confirmed it," Taylor thought. "Clearly the girl had stolen that bracelet and that was why she was acting so suspicious, so much for an easy day."

Constable Taylor grabbed the girl's arm and she went ballistic, yelling at him in some sort of gibberish. So much for her not having any energy. She started trying to get away, hitting his arm, trying to pull her arm free and clawing at his face. Finally, to save his face from any permanent damage, he took his club and hit the girl on the head. He barely managed to catch her before she slumped to the ground. Even though she was unconscious, Taylor doubted she would stay that way long and decided to get her to the Asylum before she woke.

_Diana,_

Diana sat in the dark cell unaware of how much time had passed. It could have been hours, days, or weeks she had no sense of time. The cell was cold and damp with no windows and from the sounds around her, a hefty supply of rats where living in here with her. She had slipped in and out of consciousness since arriving and was unaware of how much time had passed. She did know one thing, her bracelets were gone, as was her scarf. The only things she had left in this world and that horrible woman took them. She must have been the prison warden. Diana may not have understood English, but she did understand that the warden believed her bracelets to be stolen. She had tried to explain that they were hers, but no one had listened. They probably wouldn't have believed her anyway. Diana didn't know why they had taken her scarf. Probably for the same reason that she had a cell to herself with no windows, and that even though she was sure that she had been here for a few days at leas,t she had only been fed once. She was beginning to realize that they thought her insane, and to be honest she was beginning to believe it herself. She was so tired and cold that she couldn't always remember where she was, she just kept remembering that a monster was chasing her, and right as his laughter filled her ears she would awaken and realize that she was in darkness with no way out.

_Bruce,_

The Duke of Strathmore waited in the main lobby of the Daily Planet for Clark. As he waited he mused about the oddities of a gentleman's son working as a reporter.

"Hi Bruce."

"You're late."

Clark shook his head, same old Bruce. "Yes and I am sorry but I have to do one more thing before we leave."

"What's that?" Bruce may not have wanted to be a reporter but that didn't mean he didn't find Clark's work interesting.

"I have to go interview the warden of the London Women's Jailhouse and Asylum. I believe her name is Amanda Waller."

"Why do you need to interview a warden?"

"There has been a protest against the unethical treatment of the inmates and I am supposed to get her statement on it."

Bruce nodded there had been quite a lot of speculation about the treatment of prisoners at that jail recently. He tried to remember how long the warden had been working there, wondering if it correlated to the public concern, but he couldn't remember.

"Alright I'll come with you."

Clark stared at his friend in shock. "You want to go to a jail full of lunatics and criminals? Won't that hurt your carless playboy image?" Clark gave his friend a cheesy grin. "What would the public say if you seemed to care about the moral issues of the day?"

Bruce glared at his friend annoyed. "We'll take a cab, now let's go."

_London Women's Prison and Asylum_

_Bruce,_

"Ms. Waller do you have any comment about the alleged mistreatment of inmates that your prison has been accused of?" Clark had his paper and pencil out ready to write down every word.

Amanda Waller was a middle aged, rather rotund woman with squinty little eyes and a double chin. She sat behind her desk eyeing the troublesome reporter, deciding to humor him.

"My prison keeps the lunatics and criminals off the street. Just last week one of my constables brought in a witless girl for stealing these." Waller reached into the wooden box on her desk and produced two beautiful twin silver bracelets with inlaid diamond stars.

Bruce had been observing from a corner while Clark conducted his interview, but once Waller lifted the bracelets she had his full attention. Even from this distance he could tell that they were of the highest quality and most likely priceless.

Waller continued. "Taylor brought her in, said she tried to attack him, so he had to take…precautions. But now the little lunatic isn't terrorizing anyone, thanks to my prison."

Clark watched Waller place the bracelets back in the box but something caught his eye before she closed the lid. Sliding his hand in he managed to pull out an old blue and red scarf.

"The girl was wearing it when she was brought in." Waller said, indicating the scarf. Clark continued to look at it, running it through his fingers. Why did it look so familiar? Clark's finger brushed against some embroidery, lifting the scarf up to the lamp he read the faded golden words. _Clark Kent. _

"WHERE IS THE GIRL?"

Waller looked at him indignantly. "Look here boy, you can interview all you want for your newspaper but you will not disturb my prison by harassing my prisoners."

"But you don't understand I have to see if it's her!"

Waller opened her mouth to tell him to get out, when Bruce decided to intercede.

"Take him to her." Bruce fixed Waller with a stone cold stare. The older woman's chin rose indignantly in the air but she grabbed the keys off the wall and proceeded to walk down the hall, followed by Clark and Bruce holding a lamp.

_Diana,_

Diana was suddenly blinded by an overpowering light. She tried to turn her head away, but her body wouldn't listen to her commands. She heard voices off in the distance but as usual she couldn't understand them. Finally the light moved away from her face and her eyes began to adjust after so long in darkness. She heard what sounded like a man and a woman. She could barely make out the silhouette of someone walking towards her, and then she heard it. She heard her name.

_Bruce,_

The two men followed Waller down one dark hallway after another; each one smelling worse than the one before. As they walked, Bruce questioned Clark on his sudden interest in an insane prisoner. Clark showed him his name embroidered on the scarf and explained.

"When I was ten I met a young girl who didn't have a coat and I gave her this scarf. That was 13 years ago. I had completely forgotten about it until today."

"What if this woman isn't her?"

"I need to know. If it isn't, then it doesn't matter."

"And if it is?"

"Well I helped her once, maybe I can do so again."

Bruce sighed. The chances of this woman being the little girl Clark met all those years ago was practically zero. But his friend looked so hopeful that Bruce didn't bring it up.

At last Waller stopped in front of a metal door with no window slot. She opened it and motioned for the men to enter. The smell was overwhelming. As he stepped in, Bruce saw rats scurry away. Huddled in the corner was what appeared to be a woman, but she was so pale that for a moment Bruce believed she may have been dead. However, she winced when he brought the lamp towards her face so Clark could get a good look. Realizing that after being in the dark for so long the light was painful, he moved the lamp away and her face relaxed. Even in this cesspool, he could tell that she was an attractive woman. When she finally opened her eyes, he was taken aback by their large size and azure color; they were truly magnificent. For a moment it made him forget that she was most likely a crazy thief. Clark kneeled down and took her hand in his; still she didn't acknowledge any of them. Bruce was beginning to believe that this woman was insane despite her intelligent eyes.

"Diana?"

The woman turned and looked at Clark. She stared at him for several seconds before responding.

"She has been yelling that gibberish since she was arrested," Waller announced from the doorway. Bruce turned cold eyes towards Waller; he was liking her less by the second.

"It's French, the girl is speaking French, quite beautifully I might add. She just asked how he knows her name." Bruce turned back towards the woman on the floor as Clark continued his conversation. He took a good look around the cell. There seemed to be no form of sanitation bucket, he also noticed a rusty plate set near the door. What food the rats hadn't eaten was moldy. The plate was too far away for the girl to reach since she was chained to the far wall. Judging by the moldy remains and the size of the dozen rats infesting the floor, he concluded that the food tray had only been filled once and then neglectfully left out of the prisoner's reach. Bruce's blood began to boil, no wonder the poor woman looked close to death! And since no one had understood French, she may have had an explanation for the bracelets.

"_So, they find a hungry girl on the streets who can't speak English and they throw her in a hell hole proclaiming her insane!" _Bruce returned his attention to the woman waiting to see if she offered an explanation for the _"stolen"_ jewelry.

_Diana,_

The stranger knew her name, but how was that possible?

"How do you know my name?" Diana couldn't see the strangers face, but his voice was a mixture of excitement and concern.

"So it is Diana?"

"Yes"

"Where are you from?"

"Paris, France. Who are you?"

"Is this your scarf?" The stranger placed a long piece of knitted cloth in her hand. Diana's fingers instinctively felt the embroidery on the edge.

"Yes this is my scarf."

She could almost feel his smile as he excitedly exclaimed. "You are Diana!"

"YES, WHO ARE YOU?!"

"I am Clark Kent." There was a pause. She had heard his name but this man, Clark, seemed to think she knew him.

"I gave you that scarf."

He, gave her the scarf? No, he had handed her the scarf but her friend gave it to her, many years ago, or was it a few days ago?

The lack of sleep and food were catching up to her. Diana was becoming confused and her thoughts jumbled around as if in a dream.

"No, a little boy gave this to me, a little English boy."

"Yes, I did, I was the little English boy who gave it to you."

"Oh."

"Diana where did you get the bracelets."

"She took my bracelets." Diana nodded her head towards Waller's silhouette.

"I know but where did YOU get them."

"My mother." Diana stated this fact with such confidence that both men instinctively believed her.

"What are you doing in England?"

England? Why would she be in England she had never left Paris. Was she in England? If so why would she be….Oh yes that was why.

"_He killed her_." She said barely above a whisper.

"What?"

"He killed her, but I kept the note." She produced a carefully folded piece of paper from the folds of her dress. She held it out as if waiting for it to be taken away. Clark carefully took it from her shaky hand.

"Don't worry we will get you out of here."

Diana nodded her head before laying it down. _"It would be nice to leave here, it's very cold."_

_Bruce,_

_"__He killed her, but I kept the note." _Killed whom, and what note?

Bruce watched as the girl handed a folded piece of paper to Clark. His attention now fully engaged Bruce crossed the floor holding the lamp so Clark could see to read the note.

_Bruce Wayne,_

_Hide Her, Joker _

"WHAT!" Bruce grabbed the note from Clarks hand, his outcry had startled the girl and she bolted into an upright position and stared at him with intense curiosity.

"That's my name, Clark look." He shoved it into his friends face before taking it back to read again.

"Mademoiselle, who gave you this note?" Bruce addressed the girl who now seemed suspicious of him.

"Why?"

"Because my name is on it and I wish to know who wrote it." He tried to keep his voice calm but he could hear his annoyance coming through. Who could have written the note?

"It was my friend the Monsieur from the bar." Diana thought for a moment collecting her jumbled thoughts. "J'onn."

Bruce nodded. There was only one J'onn he could think of that would have given her this note, but he wished to know the whole story, and she was clearly in no shape to be questioned. Bruce turned to the warden.

"She is coming with us."

Waller stared him down with an as equally cold glare as he was giving her. "The ONLY way you are taking a lunatic prisoner out of here is if you are a relative or her spouse!"

Clark and Bruce looked at each other, there was no way Waller would believe she was one of their relatives which left only one option. Bruce hung his head in defeat, damn his curiosity.

"Mademoiselle, will you marry me?"


	12. Chapter 11: The Duchess of Strathmore

**Here is Chapter 11 it is a bit short but more is coming soon.**

**Chapter 11: The Duchess of Strathmore **

_Gotham England, winter 1872_

_Night of the Wedding_

_Bruce,_

The new Duchess of Strathmore, was a thieving, dirty little French peasant. Who was wearing his mother's engagement ring. He would have to have Alfred keep a close eye on all the valuables. Bruce cringed as his mind replayed the memory of "his wedding."

Waller wouldn't let them take her under the pretense that they would be married, so she had called for a priest to marry them in the prison. She probably didn't believe that Bruce would go through with it, and that was her way of calling his bluff. Unfortunately, Bruce was more determined then Waller gave him credit. But he was regretting that now.

They had been married in the hallway. The groom staring stone-faced at the wall behind the priest, and the bride being supported by Clark, who was acting as witness, best man, and interpreter. She had been so out of it that Bruce doubted she even remembered what had happened. After several promptings from Clark, she finally managed to say "I do", though she probably didn't know what she was agreeing to. The worst part by far was when he was asked for a ring. He had a moment of panic, "where was he going to get a ring?" and then like a hundred pound weight, he felt his mother's engagement ring in his pocket. When Bruce held out the priceless diamond and sapphire ring he thought the priest was going to faint. And he himself almost did as he slid it onto, his _wife's _finger. At this point Clark was holding her, since she seemed unable to stand on her own. Once they were pronounced man and wife, Bruce took the new Duchess from his friend's arms and walked out of the prison. He didn't know how, but Clark had managed to regain the girl's bracelets and scarf from Waller before they left. The only mercy of the whole ordeal was that the priest had never actually asked for their names, so at least neither he nor Waller had any idea that the Duke of Strathmore had just married a lunatic in a prison.

How could he have been so careless?! What was he thinking marrying a complete stranger on a whim?! That simply wasn't him. He was extremely calculating and careful. Bruce never left anything to chance, if he could help it.

Alfred had been pleased. That was after Bruce explained that the unconscious woman he had brought home in the middle of the night, during a thunderstorm was his new wife. He was less enthusiastic after it was explained how the new Mrs. Wayne had been procured, but still he seemed to have a cheery attitude about the whole thing. Though he was extremely curious about the origins of the mysterious new Duchess. Bruce told Alfred what little he knew of her, and what Clark had told him about their childhood encounter. Alfred seemed moved by the short tale replying that beautiful women often have difficult lives. He wasn't sure where that idea had come from but decided to let Alfred have his "insightful moment" unquestioned.

Bruce ran a hand over his face before looking at the clock. 3:43 am, well his bride was sleeping upstairs and therefore unable to be questioned. This was certainly not how he had planned for this day to turn out, but it was too late to do anything now. So with tired strides he climbed the stairs to go to bed.

_3 Days later_

_Bruce,_

Three days! How could anyone sleep for THREE DAYS! This is Intolerable WHY IS SHE STILL ASLEEP! Of course the rational part of him pointed out that the girl had been through quite the ordeal and was in pretty bad shape when he and Clark had found her. So from a logical standpoint she had every right to recover in any way her body found fit, even sleeping for three days….. Straight. Bruce shook his head, he considered himself a sensible man. In fact he valued logic and rational above all else, so he concluded that the girl did deserve to sleep, but for how long?

_Alfred,_

Alfred had not left the "dear child" as he referred to her, since she arrived. He didn't feel right leaving her alone, so he had taken up residence in a sufficiently comfortable chair at her bedside, determining not to move from his post until she awakened. Alfred did feel a moment's guilt over leaving "Master Bruce" to fend for himself, since the rest of the staff were still on vacation. But he soon decided the Bruce deserved his temporary fate for what Alfred perceived as neglecting his new bride's needs. Even though she had been acquired through less then desirable circumstances Alfred still felt as though his foster son had a duty to the woman he had married regardless, and felt a keen disappointment over his lack of concern, seeing it as a negative reflection of his teachings to his ward over the years.

Alfred sighed heavily. "I thought I had taught him better." The old man slumped ever so slightly in his chair. A position that was very out of character for the proper old butler. Reaching out a slightly withered hand he held the stilled hand of the sleeping woman he had been guarding. Holding her hand very carefully so as not to disturb her, Alfred thoughtfully spoke. "Don't worry my dear your safe now, and I apologize for Master Bruce he isn't as inconsiderate as he seems."

_Diana,_

_"__Diana come away from the window." _

_"__Read me a story."_

_"__So demanding, very well little princess bring the book."_

_Diana snuggled up next to her mother, listening to her voice which blended beautifully with the rain hitting the roof, creating a symphony of sound. She loved rain, she wished she could stay here forever._

A sudden crashing noise brought her out of the dream, opening her eyes Diana looked around, for a moment expecting to still see her mother sitting on their bed telling her a story. One glance around the palace of a room quickly brought her back to reality but also brought a wealth of questions and confusion.

_Wayne Manor,_

Alfred scrambled to pick up the food tray he had dropped, mentally chastising himself for being too preoccupied to see where he was going. As he stood up he saw a large pair of azure eyes staring back at him. They seemed to have startled each other Alfred not expecting her to be awake quickly straitened, and Diana not expecting him AT ALL, bolted upright in the bed.

"Mademoiselle you are awake, how wonderful!" Bruce had told him that the girl spoke French so Alfred complied.

"Where am I, and who are you?"


	13. Chapter 12: Answers

**OK CrazyPhenom made a suggestion about breaking up paragraphs that I tried to follow, I hope that makes it easier to read, let me know and PLEASE REVIEW.**

**Chapter 12: Answers**

_Gotham, winter 1872_

_Wayne Manor,_

"Please don't be alarmed Mademoiselle, you are at Wayne Manor, and I am the Butler, Alfred Pennyworth, at your service."

Alfred gave a bow and Diana instinctively nodded her head.

"Master Bruce will explain everything, though I am sure you will want to freshen up before seeing him. The bathroom is through that door, I am sorry about your previous clothing but they had to be burned. But I have here a dressing gown you can wear, the only good thing to come from the Master's, um previous guests. Now if you wouldn't mind to much my dear I must have your measurements so we can get you some new clothes."

Alfred motioned for Diana to stand which she did not sure if she was still dreaming. Alfred gave her some final directions to the study where she would find Master Bruce, and informed her that if she required anything else to just ring the bell before leaving her alone.

Diana took a deep breath and looked around the room.

_"__Ok don't panic, I am sure there is a reasonable explanation for why you are here, now just think Diana, how did you get here?"_

She racked her brain trying to remember. She had a hazy recollection of being somewhere very dark, and a man asking her questions, then…did it rain?

_"__Oh you idiot you were dreaming, alright the most logical thing to do is what the old man asked. Maybe this "Master Bruce" you are supposed to meet can tell me what's going on." _

She headed towards the bathroom discarding her nightgown on the floor as she went.

_Bruce,_

Alfred burst into the study at lightning speed.

"She is awake sir, and will be down shortly."

"Finally now we can get some answers, thank you Alfred."

Bruce turned back towards the papers on his desk but Alfred remained in the doorway.

"Is there something else Alfred?"

"Master Bruce, I like to believe that I have taught you the proper way to treat a lady. In light of your most recent…. activities though for a good cause, I am inclined to believe that your manners may have gathered some dust. So I simply wish to remind you that this woman is a lady not just someone to provide _you_ with answers, please be considerate of her feelings and keep in mind that she has been through a lot sir."

Bruce smiled at his foster father. "Thank you Alfred I will."

Nodding Alfred exited the study.

_Diana,_

Diana carefully followed the instructions the butler had given her, as she walked she was amazed at the grandeur.

_"__Surely this wasn't just one man's house? He would have to be a King!" _

After what felt like an eternity of hallways, doors, and staircases, she finally arrived in front of what she hoped was the study door.

Taking a moment to school her features, Diana knocked on the large oak door, the echo causing her to jump a little.

_Bruce,_

"Come in." Bruce stood.

The large door opened, slowly at first then at a normal speed.

In walked the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

She was tall, she must have be at least 5' 10" maybe 5'11". And talk about a figure! That hourglass could put Aphrodite to shame. She had a cascade of rich raven black hair that reached her hips. She stood tall and regal, like a self-assured Queen. For years Bruce had compared every woman he met to Andrea, none had measured up, until today. This woman surpassed not only Andrea but any beautiful example he could imagine, her beauty was almost unearthly.

_"__Imagine what she must look like without that robe…"_

Bruce was brought back from his imaginings when the woman spoke.

"Is something wrong Monsieur?"

Bruce coughed nervously, "Um no, no forgive me, please take a seat."

She complied taking the seat directly across from his desk, her posture was perfection her back never touched the chair, and her hands rested gracefully on her lap.

He took his own seat unable to take his eyes away. His tongue lodged in his throat as he watched her brush a black curl from her shoulder, with graceful slim fingers.

Finally Diana broke what had become an uncomfortable silence.

"Monsieur, I was hoping you could tell me, what I am doing here?"

Bruce cleared his suddenly dry throat, he had never had so much trouble talking before.

"Well how about you tell me the last thing you remember first."

"I remember it was dark and hearing voices, I think someone asked me to say something, I guess I must have been dreaming."

"No you weren't dreaming, though you were practically unconscious. What you are remembering, (sigh) was our wedding."

"WHAT!"

Bruce cringed "Yes."

Bruce explained how he and Clark found her in the prison, and how the only way to convince Waller to let them take her away was if she was a relative or spouse. He also gave her back the bracelets, and scarf.

"I see" Diana said looking at her bracelets. "Thank you, for not leaving me in that horrible place, I do remember going there." She shuddered at the memory of the dark, dank, cell.

"But I am confused what convinced you to get me out?"

"This," he reached into the top draw of his desk and retrieved the note she had given Clark in the Jail. He handed it back to her.

"Now if you don't mind Miss…?" he was hoping she would give him a last name that would help add context to who she was.

"Diana, my name is Diana."

No such luck on that last name. "Mine is Bruce, Bruce Wayne. Now I assume you can't read, correct?"

"Incorrect."

"…Then you know what the note says?"

"Wrong again."

"I am sorry?"

"I can read, just not English, so I have no idea what this note says."

He was becoming frustrated he assumed she knew he was referring to English. "Very well then, I will tell you what it says. "Bruce Wayne, hide her Joker," and then the ink is smudged. Now my question is who gave you that note, and why?" His voice had become harsher then he intended but this was a matter of urgency.

Diana sat silently across his desk staring at the note. After what felt like an eternity to Bruce she looked up and met his gaze.

Bruce found himself staring into the steel determination of her large azure eyes. He had never seen eyes such a clear shade of blue before. He had to check himself, in order to not lose focus.

"I have… had, a friend, her name was Donna."

He nodded for her to continue.

"Donna had met a boy named Philippe. She wanted to run away with him, to America." Diana scoffed at the still ridiculous idea.

"She asked me for money to help them leave Paris, I had none but I did have my mother's silver bracelets." Diana inclined her head towards the priceless articles now sitting between them on the desk.

"I decided to help her, so I went to meet them at a warehouse to give her the bracelets."

Bruce was becoming interested and unknowingly leaned forward in his chair.

"But as I got closer I heard someone else speaking to them, I could see the fear in their eyes, and then a gun came out of the shadows…." Diana stared at the bracelets tears running down her cheeks.

"He killed them." Bruce finished. Diana nodded wiping her eyes.

"She was so young." Diana whispered.

"I screamed, he stepped out of the shadows, and I saw a horrifying demon. His eyes where yellow where they should have been white, and his skin was so pale he looked like death."

Diana gave an involuntary shudder as she remembered. "But his mouth was what was truly horrifying, it was if someone had cut his mouth into a permanent smile, like he could never close his mouth and frown. It was just a permanent clownish grimace."

"Anyway he heard me and I took off running. That freak is in good shape I'll give him that. He chased me for blocks firing bullets, and I kept thinking any minute now he is going to get me and I am going to die, just like Donna."

Diana was silent again trying to keep her emotions in check. Bruce felt sorry for this woman who had seen her friend killed by a monster.

"Finally I found my friend he gave me the note and put me on a ship, but he didn't get to finish writing before the monster caught up. I heard a shot he may be dead too for all I know."

Diana continued, telling Bruce about the ship and arriving in London, how the constable caught her stealing bread, and going to the prison.

Diana took a deep breath, and looked back at Bruce.

"Now it is my turn Monsieur, what do you know?"

"The man who killed your friend is a hired assassin, he goes by Joker, I don't know his true identity, but he is an insane psychopath. He works for a man named Lex Luthor, whom I have been investigating for months, I promise you that I will do everything I can to bring them both to justice."

"I WANT TO HELP!"

Bruce stared at her silently begging some higher being he didn't believe in that he had heard wrong.

"You can't"

"Why not?"

"You don't know what you're asking."

"Excuse me but I know exactly what I am asking, I watched him murder my best friend remember!?"

"Yes, but you don't understand how dangerous the situation is, there is a lot more to this then one homicidal maniac."

"Then I want to help you bring them to justice too."

"I am sorry but…"

"Please," Diana said suddenly very earnest, Bruce could see tears pooling in her beautiful azure eyes, it made his heart contort he didn't wish to cause her more pain but she didn't understand what she was asking.

"Diana it is impossible."

"Have you never lost someone? If you had you would understand, I have to see justice done."

He had to help her avenge Donna, he just had to. She would never be able to live with her self if she thought that monster had been left free while her friend, her sister lay dead, never to laugh or smile again.

He stared at her his stone cold gaze betraying nothing of his thoughts. He rose and turns his back to her. Staring out the window Bruce did his best to fight down the feelings her statement had brought flooding back. He had lost someone, two someone's. The most important people in his life, they had been taken from him in an equally cruel and senseless way. Torn from their young son, leaving him to navigate this uncertain world alone.

Bruce wrestled with his decision, how could he deny her the chance at justice, vengeance even. But at the same time how could he knowingly allow her to endanger her life, and possibly the lives of all those she loved?

Diana stared at his back unable to see his face, silently begging him, to not turn her out, and take away her best chance of revenge.

_"__He has to say yes, he just has to… but what if he doesn't, what if he says no? You will be turned out back on the streets, that maniac will hunt you down and kill you too. And what of Donna? How will I live with myself knowing I did nothing to avenge her death? O Monsieur please say yes. PLEASE!"_

Bruce turned back he didn't take his seat just stood, looming over Diana as she set in the chair. Diana held her breath, after an eternity he spoke, his voice low and gravelly sent chills down her spine.

"No."


	14. Chapter 13: Questions

**Chapter 13: Questions**

_Wayne Manor, Winter 1872_

_Diana,_

Diana stood and met his cold gaze with equal determination.

"Monsieur you do not know me, but I have just lost my dearest friend, a girl who was a sister to me. Killed when she was little more than a child, and I cannot forget that, so no matter how hard it is or long it takes, I will find her murderer, _and make him __pay._"

Diana turned to leave, she got halfway to the door before she had a very relevant thought, causing her to pause in the middle of the room.

_"__What am I doing? I don't know how to get out of this labyrinth of a house! Where will I go? I don't even have a dress!" _

She hesitated for a moment, but her pride would not allow her to ask him for anymore help. Raising her chin in the air Diana walked toward the door.

_"__I will just figure it out on my own."_

Diana reached for the brass door handle.

"Wait."

She spun around, grateful she didn't have to go out in the cold just yet. Bruce motioned for her to sit back down. Curiosity and hope peeked once again as Diana sat down. Bruce rubbed a hand over his face before turning a hard glare at the woman across from him, trying to judge her resolve. Diana unfazed matched his gaze.

_"__Well, she seems determined, and she'll probably just wind up back in prison if I let her go. Maybe I should just let her go."_

Almost as soon as the thought presented itself he knew he couldn't act on it. How many times had he dreamed of his parents' death? How many times had he contemplated what it would be like to see their killer brought to justice? Bruce knew he couldn't deny her a chance at the retribution he would never have. 

Having decided on a course of action, Bruce sighed he has a feeling this woman was going to significantly interfere with his life.

"Very well you may stay and I will help you."

Diana let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding and thanked him. Bruce held up his hand and shook his head.

"Don't thank me, I am not doing you any favors by involving you in this."

"I am already involved,"

Bruce didn't argue the point, "We need a plan of how to explain your presence here."

"Why not the truth?"

Bruce shook his head absently "Too risky, if the Joker is looking for you, and I assure you he is looking. We don't want to alert him to your location."

Diana nodded gravely "I suppose that does make sense, what do you suggest."

"We need to invent for you a past, and since it is easier to remember a lie that is closer to the truth we should keep your story as close to reality as possible. Now you are already legally my wife so that is the simplest explanation for why you are here, but you need a back story, and quickly so we can tell it to the staff when they return tomorrow, the less people who know the truth the better. So tell me about yourself."

"Alright, I was born at Madame Marie's brothel in Paris, on March 4, 1851. My mother's name was Hippolyta, she died when I was 12. That is when I began working as a dancing girl for Madame, when I was 15 I started working for the clients, and continued to do so until I came to England a few weeks ago."

Bruce's head shot up, he had made many assumptions of the woman sitting before him but never had this possibility entered his mind. A brothel? How could such a beautiful, graceful creature have spent her whole life in servitude of the most humiliating nature?

What he really couldn't understand is how she seemed to hold no resentment, not even the slightest irritation for the life she had been dealt. She just seemed to accept what for her had always been as if it was as natural as the moon's rise and the sun's fall.

Surely there was more to her then this, anything she could add to give herself more substance in the world. "You mentioned being able to read, did you have any formal education?"

"My mother taught me, I can speak, read, and write French, Italian, and Greek."

That was something at least, she had a remarkable education in language if what she said was true, (and he believed it was.) But how could that be it? How was that all?

"Is that it? Is that all you know about yourself?"

Diana thought for a moment before responding. "I suppose it is, I never had to think about my past. Before it never mattered."

Diana stared at her grandmother's bracelets. She had never realized how little she knew about herself, but saying her past out loud it sounded so simple, so unconnected. Had she really spent her whole life in that brothel? The light of the desk lamp made the diamonds in her grandmother's bracelets wink at her.

Her grandmother, who was she anyway? What had happened to her? Diana tried remembered the few times her mother had spoken of her past but Hippolyta had not been very open about her life before the brothel, and Diana knew questions would not have been welcome.

_"__Oh, well. What does it matter? He wants to make an invented history anyway."_

But Diana couldn't shake the new sense of shame about her past. She had never before been ashamed of her life as a prostitute. Actually she had never thought about it or been around someone who had found it undesirable. But now talking to Bruce she wished she had something more respectable about her life to share.

"Great," Bruce muttered "a parentless bastard prostitute." He wondered if Alfred would be quite as taken with her after learning this fact.

Diana's head shot up upon hearing this, and she addressed him confidently.

"I will have you know, Monsieur Wayne, that I am not illegitimate."

Bruce grimaced realizing that he had still been speaking French. "Mademoiselle, I am sorry to have upset you. It was rude of me. Of course, we will not tell people you are illegitimate." He was sorry he didn't intend to upset her. So much for his promise to Alfred.

"You misunderstand me Monsieur, my parents were married."

Bruce leaned back in his chair now hopelessly confused, and irritated. First, she said she was born in a brothel and only mentions her mother. Now, not only does she have a father but they were most definitely married. MAKE UP YOUR MIND WOMAN!

Bruce glared in frustration "And may I ask how you know that, if like _you_ said you were born in a brothel?"

Diana's chin rose with pride. She told Bruce what her mother had told her about coming to the brothel that was one piece of information Hippolyta hadn't minded repeating.

"Mother only mentioned my father once, but she did say he was her husband…And she told me part of his name."

"And what pray tell would that be?"

"Anthos, Monsieur Anthos. After my mother died I began to wonder if she had been telling me the truth, so I questioned Madame. She confirmed that she had found my mother in an alley, pregnant, and running from someone. Madame even said that mother told her she was running from her husband." Diana finished triumphantly, assured that she had made her point.

Bruce sat very quietly across from Diana, his expression no longer showed any frustration, but Diana could not read what expression had taken its place. Bruce thought to himself how incredibly sad this woman was, even more so since she did not seem to realize it.

Her entire existence as she knew it had been based on a lie, or at the very least it must have been an exaggerated truth. Hippolyta must have told her daughter this in order to hide her own shame about her existence.

Bruce continued to look at Diana, so confident in what she believed to be true. He supposed there was some small possibility that it could be true, and he certainly wouldn't be the one to question her.

"Well, I am pleased that you are so well versed in languages, it will help you in learning English. Now let's get back to business."

After several more hours they had hashed out a believable back story and perfected Diana's telling of it. When the clock chimed 6 there was a knock on the door followed by Alfred entering with a tea tray.

"I am sorry to interrupt Sir, but I figured the two of you could use some tea."

_"__Solution to everything, you sneak." _Bruce thought, his foster father was a master of eavesdropping, but not always sedulity.

"I also have some news for Mademoiselle," turning toward Diana Alfred continued. "I have managed to get you some new clothes while I was in town today. They are already in your room but the rest of what I ordered will be here in the coming week."

"Uh thank you, Alfred but…" Diana paused not sure how to continue.

"But what my dear?"

"It's just, thank you but I cannot accept."

Alfred seemed stunned. "Why on earth not?"

"Because I can't pay for any new clothes."

Alfred stifled a snicker and Bruce put his hand over his mouth so she couldn't see his rare show of amusement.

"Mistress Diana, you are the Duchess of Strathmore and Master Bruce's wife." Bruce became stern again at that reminder. "It is only fitting that he pay for your wardrobe, and anything else you may need or desire." Alfred smiled and put her now empty tea cup back on the tray.

"Now, if you don't mind, you both have been working entirely too hard, and Mademoiselle Diana you need your rest."

Diana was about to argue but was prevented by an untimely yawn. Alfred took this as a sign of victory and led his begrudging charge out of the study. As they left Bruce heard Alfred telling Diana that he would be her English tutor and was very pleased that she has come to live with them. Bruce smiled to himself he hoped Alfred wouldn't smother his new pet.

Later that evening Bruce was filling Alfred in on the plan, though he was sure to know most of it through eavesdropping. Alfred took great delight in the fact that Diana's nickname had been La Princesse, Bruce agreed that it is was fitting given her overall composure and poise.

"As if written by the brothers Grimm." Alfred mused. Bruce sent him a stone cold glare, Alfred was unfazed. "Master Bruce that won't work. I am determined to like her. Besides who do you think taught you how to do that?"

"This isn't a fairy tale Alfred, she had to watch her friend die."

The older man nodded his head solemnly. "No this is not a fairy tale, but how interesting would it be if she did turn out to be a princess in the end."


	15. Chapter 14: Married Life

**OK here is Chapter 14 thank you everyone for all the reviews please keep em coming it really helps my motivation, Also I really want to know what you guys think of Etta, Alfred, and Luthor, Please enjoy.**

**Chapter 14: Married Life**

_Wayne Manor, Gotham 1872_

_Diana,_

Diana awoke the next morning to the sound of a door banging shut. She wondered if she would ever be allowed to awaken without rude interruption again.

"Oh good, you're AWAKE!"

Diana sat up and sleepily tried to focus her vision on the fuzzy blond blob that had spoken to her.

"Oh no, did I wake you? I am so sorry my Lady!"

"What? Um…. No…. I needed to wake up anyway…..I guess. Who are you?"

The fuzzy blob was beginning to take focus and turned out to be a short slightly pudgy woman with extremely curly blond hair rebelliously trying to escape its restrictive bun. Despite the fact that she was obviously a grown woman, her smilingly face portrayed the trust of a child.

"Oh my goodness where ARE my manners, I mean what would my mother say here I am talking to the Duchess of Strathmore and I haven't even told her my name." She blurted, staring at Diana with an excited grin completely missing the fact that she had forgotten once again to give her name.

Diana stared back wondering how much oxygen this woman had been deprived of recently.

"Um, you….still haven't."

"OH MY! Yes well, my name is Etta Candy, and I am your new ladies maid." Etta gave a short curtsey, before bobbing back up with the same look of barely contained excitement on her face, like a child who knows a secret and wants nothing more than to share it.

Diana chuckled, "Well it is a pleasure to meet you Etta. I am Diana." She extended a hand to shake but Etta just curtsied again.

"Oh I know who you are, everyone in the house does, and it is just so exciting!"

"Exciting?"

"Oh yes! Why it is like a fairy tale! Alfred told all the staff about it when we came back this morning."

"Did he?"

Etta nodded vigorously. "I mean the way you and Master Wayne met and got married; it is just the most romantic thing ever!"

"Oh yes, _very _romantic."

Apparently sarcasm wasn't Etta's strong suit and she continued to go on about the romanticism of the Master finding his true love in a foreign land, well France anyway. Diana was liking this woman more and more. There was something endearing about her, like a little puppy you want to keep from growing up.

"Now if you will just wait one moment milady."

"Diana"

"Milady Diana. I will bring up your breakfast."

"Why are we eating breakfast in my room?"

Etta's smile finally faded to a look of confusion and concern.

"No ma'am only you eat breakfast in your room. It is traditional that the lady of the house has breakfast in her room and Master Wayne has his in the dining room."

Diana thought this the most ludicrous thing she had ever heard. Besides she was extremely curious about her new husband and how was she ever going to learn about him if she never saw him.

"That is ridiculous! I have to get dressed, but then I am eating breakfast in the dining room."

Etta's anxiety levels went up even further. "But, what if the Duke doesn't…."

"Etta, I promise it will be fine."

She seemed unconvinced but preceded to help her new mistress get dressed, all the while muttering about how strange the French were. Diana decided to try and distract her so she asked Etta why Alfred had chosen her to be a ladies maid.

"Well as you can see I am fluent in French, and Mr. Pennyworth thought that I could be helpful in teaching you English. Plus I worked as a ladies maid once before….sort of….well, my Aunt Agnes had me do her hair for a summer…but I learned a lot!"

Diana felt as though the term fluent must be used loosely when referring to Etta's linguistic skills, but at least she could understand her and it would be nice to have a friend to talk to.

About 35 minutes later Etta had finally finished getting her ready and stood back for Diana to admire herself in the full length gilded mirror.

_"__Finally, I can't believe that took so long! I have never worn so many clothes in my LIFE!"_

All thoughts of inconvenience were erased, however, once Diana observed Etta's handiwork. Alfred had impeccable taste! Of the few outfits he had bought her Etta had chosen a gown of peacock blue taffeta that set off Diana's eyes perfectly. The three-quarter length sleeves were edged in priceless cream colored lace and scalloped edges of darker blue edged the bustle. The cut framed her long neck, and a line of tiny pearl buttons ran down the front drawing attention to her small waist.

Diana's eyes traveled to her face where Etta had artfully arranged her rich dark hair into a sleek and elegant style. The finishing touch was a pair of sapphire drop earrings that Etta had taken from a large jewelry case in the corner of her room. She had never felt so elegant before.

"Well Miss Candy, which way to breakfast?"

_Bruce_

"More coffee sir?"

"No thank you Alfred." Bruce continued to read through the newspaper enjoying the peace and quiet of his morning breakfast when who should walk through the door but his wife.

"Mademoiselle Diana!" Alfred excitedly exclaimed. Bruce began to choke on his toast.

"Please remember to eat slowly sir. Now what can I do for you my dear?"

Diana rewarded Alfred's question with a brilliant smile; her whole face lit up as she addressed the older man. Bruce found his newspaper less interesting than it was a few seconds ago.

"Just some breakfast if you don't mind."

"I shall be back with the very best we have to offer. Please, sit."

A small coughing fit from Alfred brought Bruce's prestigious upbringing back into full swing. He solemnly rose and bowed to the lady before pulling her seat out and wishing her a good morning. Then he returned to his paper hoping to put all _distractions_ out of his mind.

Diana, however, had no intention of eating this meal in uncomfortable silence. She opted for forced conversation instead.

"So Bruce, what are you reading?"

"The newspaper."

Diana glared at him. "I meant more specifically."

"Page 4."

"What is it about?"

"Current events."

_Insufferable man, _Diana thought.

It was obvious to her that he didn't want to talk, and she couldn't understand why she was being so persistent. She found him very intriguing. With the exception of J'onn, Diana had never had a real conversation with a man. Bruce seemed so different from the open and sharing J'onn that it made Diana all the more curious as to what made him tick.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Diana decided on a different approach.

"Do you have a job?"

"Hmmm"

"Hmmm yes, or hmmm no?"

Bruce let out a long sigh and looked at her over the top of his newspaper. "Yes."

_Finally a useful answer._

"What kind of job is it?"

"I run Wayne industries."

"So, a factory?"

"Several factories, plus other large and small investments."

"Like what?"

(Aggravated sigh) "Diana I don't mean to be rude, but I have a lot to do today and right now I would like to relax." Bruce retreated once again behind his newspaper.

_Insolent Brute, you want to eat in silence? FINE! But I will get you to talk just wait_, she thought.

Bruce downed the rest of his coffee, and Alfred returned with Diana's breakfast. As he got up to leave Bruce felt a twinge of guilt, and deciding he _may _have been rude he addressed Diana.

"Would you like a tour of the Manor?"

Diana's head shot up. "YES! I mean….yes."

"Good, ALFRED! Give her a tour." Bruce turned around and exited the dining room.

Diana's face turned from excitement, to shock, to indignation. The same expressions mirrored on Alfred's face.

"Miss Diana I am so sorry just give me a moment to straighten him out!"

"No Alfred its ok, I would much rather spend the day with you." She gave another brilliant smile that melted the old man's heart.

_Master Bruce….you're a bloody fool,_ Alfred thought as he led the mistress on a tour of her new home.

_Alfred,_

The tour was going splendidly in Alfred's opinion. They had begun with the grounds outside, after inspecting the stables Diana expressed a wish to learn how to ride, something the groom was only too willing to teach her, and so Alfred arranged for some lessons. Now they were in the east wing, they had only managed to cover part of the ground floor but it taken all morning and now part of the afternoon. Currently he was showing her the extensive portrait gallery and showcasing his vast knowledge of Wayne family history.

_Diana,_

Diana walked up the gallery staring at portrait after portrait of past Dukes. When something caught her eye. It was a painting of a husband and wife, each resting a hand on the shoulder of a small boy standing between them, Diana assumed he was their son.

"Alfred, who are these people?"

Alfred scurried up the corridor to see the painting in question, the sound of his well-polished shoes making a soft tapping noise as he went.

"Who my dear? Ah….That is Master Bruce and his parents, when the master was around 7 years old."

Diana stared more intently, the man seemed stern but not frightening. She moved her glance toward the woman and found herself staring into a kind, compassionate face that in some ways reminded her of her own mother. That thought brought a sudden sense of sadness to Diana. Finally she looked to the little boy…to Bruce.

Funny she couldn't imagine the stoic Duke as a child. The boy in the painting just seemed so different from the man she had met. He had the same blue eyes, the same dark hair, but he just seemed so….happy. As if nothing wrong could ever happen to him. The Bruce Wayne she had met seemed to be carrying weight the size of the earth on his shoulders.

"Where are his parents now?"

Alfred's smile faded. "They died…a long time ago. Not long after this portrait was made actually."

Diana stared back at the little boy in the painting and thought _is that why he is so reserved? _

"How did it happen?"

"They were killed, by a lone mugger in the city one night." Alfred's face seemed to age a decade as he spoke of the event.

"That's terrible….. Tell me, how old was he?"

"Eight years old."

Diana let out a little gasp. _Eight? He had only been eight? _Diana's own mother had died when she was young, but Hippolyta had not been murdered and Diana had not been only eight years old. But be that as it may Diana could still remember the pain, and overwhelming sense of loss she had felt when her mother had died. She couldn't imagine how those feelings must have been amplified for such a young child.

_So that's the secret isn't it? You're still a lonely little boy, aren't you Bruce? _

Diana was brought back to reality by the sound of Alfred closing his pocket watch.

"I am terribly sorry to cut the tour short my dear but it is time for your English lesson."

_2 Week Later_

_Diana,_

_To think I used to like rain!_

Diana sat gloomily in the large arm chair she had pulled in front of the largest window she could find in order to watch the rain. Not because she was enjoying herself, but because she had run out of other things to do.

Ugh, it had been raining ALL WEEK! (Truthfully it had only been four days, but to Diana it felt like forever.) Unfortunately when it rained, there were no riding lessons.

In the two weeks since coming to Wayne Manor Diana had found a real passion for riding and she was getting rather good at it. But now she could feel her new found skills melting away with every drop of rain.

She didn't even understand how it could be raining, as cold as it was outside it should have been snowing! But no, this fluke of nature just wouldn't let up. She couldn't even work on her English lesson because Alfred was busy and Etta had the day off.

It wasn't that she was incapable of entertaining herself, she had tried to find something to do. Two days into the rainy season she had attempted to explore the house on her own. However, when she wound up being two hours late for dinner Alfred became nervous and formed the maids into a rescue party. One of the housemaids, Alice, had found her trying to find her way back to her bedroom from the attic on the fifth floor.

After that, Alfred had insisted she take someone with her when she felt like exploring. Diana had tried to explain that she hadn't been lost - which was a lie - but he wouldn't hear of it.

Diana honestly wasn't embarrassed about the fact that she had gotten confused. After all who wouldn't inside this maze? But she couldn't stand the amused look on Bruce's face when they had finally found her.

Speaking of Bruce, that was another reason for her lack of motivation. She just knew he had been avoiding her! But she couldn't figure out why. She was beginning to think she had offended him in some way. The only time she ever saw him was at meals and even then he never talked to her. Try as she might to start a conversation, that man had incredible avoidance skills and it was really starting to tick her off.

So here she sat staring angrily at the rain, deciding it was easier to blame the downpour outside for her frustrations than the legitimate source.

_Bruce,_

Bruce walked through his house with no particular destination in mind. He was taking a break from the mass of paperwork he had been going through since 5:00 o'clock that morning. Seeing as how it was now 3:00pm he felt he had earned a break.

Of course work wasn't the only thing he wanted to clear from his mind.

_You're avoiding her. Why? You know why. _

Bruce sighed what was it about her anyway? Was it her beauty? Bruce had thought that as time passed he would notice Diana's obvious unearthly beauty less and less and begin to notice her imperfections. That hadn't happened. In fact, she seemed more beautiful each time he saw her.

But that wasn't it either for he was no stranger to a pretty face. Bruce was a master of self-control. Not even Diana could change that.

There was something more to her, something that naturally drew him to her. _This is nonsense._

He continued to wander until he found himself in the main drawing room, and low and behold there was the woman of his thoughts.

She had pulled the largest chair in the room up to the window to the point where she could have leaned against the glass if she wanted to. Instead, he found her sitting upright and perfect, watching the rain fall. The only thing that marred this picture was the scowl she wore across her face. Which for some reason made her appear all the more lovely.

_Wayne Manor_

"What are you doing?"

Diana jumped at the sound of his voice and spun around in her chair.

"How do you do that?"

Bruce shrugged his shoulders "Practice….what are you doing?"

Diana turned back around. "Watching the rain….because there is nothing else to do."

_Well, well, well, is the Princess bored? _Bruce smirked to himself.

He came and stood by her chair, but while Diana continued to watch the rain he watched her.

"What did you use to do in your free time?"

Diana scoffed. "What free time?"

Bruce gave her a skeptical look. "I understand that you were usually…busy." Diana turned a glare toward him. Bruce ignored her and continued.

"But surely even you got a break." He was teasing her but it was just so amusing to see her pride flare to the surface.

"For your information, I was _very_ busy." Bruce's smile fell, causing Diana to have a smirk of her own.

"But you're right I did have some free time." She let out a regretful sigh "But the maids are too busy to play cards and I tried to teach Etta but I just couldn't stand the thought of her loosing so it wasn't a very eventful game. For me at least, but Etta seemed to enjoy it. However, it is her day off so she isn't here."

"You didn't do anything else?"

"Well yes but I didn't exactly bring my books with me from Paris."

Bruce's interest piqued "Books? _You_ like to read."

"Surprised Mister Wayne? Yes _I _like to read but like I said I couldn't bring my books with me. I was a little too busy running for my life to go back and pack."

Bruce had an idea. "Come with me." He commanded in a voice that made it clear it wasn't a request. Diana didn't like being told what to do so rudely but her curiosity was a more powerful force then wounded pride.

She followed him down a series of winding corridors till Diana was beginning to think that if he left her here she would never find her way back.

_Convenient way to get rid of me. Duke's wife gets lost in her own house, never heard from again._

Finally Bruce stopped in front of a set of large double doors. He turned and motioned her inside.

Diana entered the room and nearly had a heart attack. She didn't know there were so many books in existence!

_Bruce_

Bruce watched her reverently walk along the shelves of books in the library gently caressing the book covers as she went. Her solemn posterity evaporated however once something caught her interest. With a squeal, Diana grabbed about four books and ran down the aisles piling more books into her arms.

He chuckled and began to close the door. _Have fun Diana._

_Later that evening at Dinner_

_Bruce,_

Alfred was falling to pieces. "Honestly Master Bruce I am going to get a bell and tie it around her neck! That way we will never lose her."

"Now Alfred."

"LOOK AT THE TIME! She has done it again, gotten herself lost I just know it. ALICE!"

"Alfred calm down, don't summon the troops just yet."

"But sir it is already eight o clock!"

"Don't worry, I have an idea of where to look for her, you and the maids just go enjoy your dinner we will be fine."

"But Sir…"

"Alfred I will find my wife. Now if you would please go have your dinner."

Alfred was offended and was about to give Bruce a verbal thrashing when he realized that he had said _my wife!_

"Very well sir, I shall be in the kitchen."

Upon entering the library Bruce had to catch himself from tripping over a pair of ladies shoes. There she was sitting on the floor surrounded by a sea of books. Several were open and she was comparing pictures and words, in her lap lay a large English to French dictionary and in her hand was large book of world history.

The woman before him now vaguely resembled the well-dressed lady he had escorted to the library. The marked difference being her lack of shoes and stockings which he saw draped over a stack of books. Her once sophisticated up swept hair was slipping and a large portion of the front section hung in her face. The many folds of her forest green gown were spread across the floor and some parts of the extensive skirt was actually buried beneath volumes of books. He hoped she would realize before trying to stand up.

Having become aware of the intrusion of her sanctuary Diana looked up brushing hair from her eyes so she could view the intruder. Seeing who it was a large smile broke across her face, letting her hair fall once again Diana held up her book pointing to a section Bruce was too far away to read.

"What does, in….de….PEN….dEnce…mean?"

"It means freedom to choose, to be self-reliant."

"Hmmm…" Diana returned her attention to her book.

"Alfred has dinner waiting."

"That's nice…. Did you know that England had a king with SIX WIVES! But apparently not all at once…."

"Yes I was aware of that….Dinner?"

"I am ok…Who was Jane Austen?"

"She was an author, I believe we have some of her books."

Bruce debated broaching the subject of Alfred's prize salmon creation, but he was hesitant to break the spell of Diana's scholarly pursuits.

"Diana…what do you know about the Chinese?"

The clock struck four as Bruce climbed the grand staircase. The sleeping dark haired beauty in his arms still clutched a book on earth science refusing to relinquish it, even in sleep. Dinner had never happened, the two had been preoccupied discussing every book Diana had gotten her hands on.

Bruce had never had such a varied conversation, once Diana had found a topic that grabbed her interest she devoured it he had been hard pressed to keep up with her steady stream of questions.

Having finally reached the Duchess's room Bruce laid her down on her bed finally managing the wrench the book out of her hands he laid it on the bedside table.

_Don't worry it will be here when you wake up._

Bruce looked around the dark room, he hadn't been near this room since his mother had died. It looked the same way he had remembered except he recalled his mother keeping it in better order. It seemed that Diana had managed to mark her territory in his otherwise well-ordered house.

_Alfred,_

Alfred could not have been more pleased. Recently Bruce's manners had improved tenfold. The morning after the great book caper Diana had been hard at work with her English studies when who should interrupt them but Master Bruce. He hadn't said much just handed her a book stating that he thought she would find it interesting before leaving like a little boy who has pulled a girls pig tales and doesn't want her to know it was him.

"What book is it my dear?"

Diana stared at the title and sounded it out with her rapidly improving English.

"Prrrrrrrrrr….iiiiiiiiiiiii….de, and Preeeeeeee…d…juuuuuuuuu….diiiiii…ce. Pride and Prejudice!"

Alfred smiled as he remembered, _most fitting subject._

_Bruce,_

The Duke of Strathmore walked towards his stables, he had been looking for the Duchess for going on twenty minutes and he was not a man who enjoyed wasting time so this goal was fast becoming an inconvenience.

There she came galloping across the park coming to reckless stop in front of the stable door that made his heart skip a beat.

_Diana,_

There was nothing more freeing than riding a horse, preferably at breakneck speed. Diana dismounted tossing the rains to a groom. As she turned she was confronted by a very stone faced stern man.

"Good morning Bruce."

He looked at Diana's disheveled hair and flushed cheeks, he also noted the generous splattering of mud on the skirt of her dress.

"A lady rides side saddle."

Diana brushed a stray wasp of hair from her face.

"You can brighten any day with your charm Monsieur never lose that ability."

"You're a Duchess Diana, you should make an effort to behave thus. By riding side saddle."

"Have you ever tried it? There is no more barbaric invention."

Bruce glared at her, a look she had no trouble returning.

"Follow me."

_Always one to offer an explanation._

She followed him to his study. Diana's curiosity was building, _what could he have to show me in here? _Bruce walked over to a large grandfather clock, Diana followed. The two stood in front of the clock for an uncomfortable amount of time.

"It's two eighteen."

He sent her another glare and she realized commentary was unacceptable.

"None of the staff are allowed in here except Alfred."

Bruce opened the class door of the clock and pulled the chain. Suddenly there was a creaking sound followed by a groan. Diana watched in awe as the grandfather clock slowly _moved_ reveling a hidden staircase. It was dark she couldn't even see the end but she followed Bruce down the long passage.

Finally they reached the end of the stairs they were in complete darkness and she could hear the sound of water dripping.

"Duck." Bruce commanded, Diana obeyed.

Bruce flipped a switch that began a chain reaction of gas lighting around the room. With the lights on Diana realized she was in a HUGE cavernous cave. She also understood the necessity for crouching, the lights had disturbed _hundreds _of bats that now flew overhead, trying to find a new perch.

Once the flying vermin had cleared Bruce motioned her to follow him. Diana was bursting with questions but could sense that now wasn't the time. On the far side of the main room of the cave a second _room_ was located. Inside was a fully equipped sparring range. On the back wall were all kinds of hand held weapons as well as targets. In the center was a large wrestler's mat that was twice the size of a normal mat.

She couldn't keep her questions in any longer.

"What are we doing here?"

"If you really want to help, then you need to be useful. I have no time for a woman who can't defend herself….. So Princess, let's see what you can do."


	16. Chapter 15: Memories

**We're back to Lex Luthor, this chapter is kinda short but hopefully still interesting. Don't forget to review.**

**Chapter 15: Memories**

_Luthor,_

_"__This isn't right, the cure isn't just having a reverse affect it is something else entirely. It's too unstable who knows what all the effects could be. We have created something more dangerous than even we understand." _

_"__I am glad to see you haven't wasted my money gentleman."_

_He turned toward the voice. A tall imposing man stood in the lab's doorway, his dark hair was highlighted by silver at the temple. His perfectly shaped beard came to a sharp point. Although clearly not disabled he carried a jet black cane topped with a silver serpent's head. _

_"__It's the benefactor." His assistant hissed. _

_The older man's face spread into a cynical smile at the sound of his name._

_"__Good afternoon gentleman, I have come for the serum."_

_The assistant opened his mouth to speak but was quickly shut down._

_"__You," said the benefactor pressing his cane into the young man's chest "are NOT the Scientist…Get out."_

_He hadn't needed to be asked twice, Lex watched him flee before returning his attention to the man who was paying him to do as he said. _

_"__Now, where is my serum?"_

_"__I am sorry sir but it isn't ready, we need to do further tests."_

_The benefactor's eyes narrowed into slits, it felt like he was looking into Lex's soul. He took a breath and stood straighter he wouldn't let this man see how afraid he felt._

_"__The frog poison isn't reacting how we thought. Instead of reversing, the poisons effects have become enhanced. I need more time."_

_The benefactor's smile widened. "You misunderstand, that is __exactly __what is supposed to happen. In fact I want you to make it stronger."_

_He was stunned. "But what would that accomplish? That isn't our goal."_

_"__Oh but it is….you see Mr. Luthor I was never interested in a cure, what I want….is a weapon."_

_"__What? But…but why, this isn't like a gun…it would be a device of torture!"_

_Comprehension clicked. "YOU'RE INSANE!"_

_"__Careful Mr. Luthor, you wouldn't want to make a mistake… I do not accept mistakes."_

_"__I am NOT helping YOU!" _

_Their gazes met Lex couldn't help feeling as though he had made a horrible mistake._

_The older man picked up a vile of the __cure__ from the counter._

_"__I believe you're right Mr. Luthor this should be tested."_

_He had lunged for the vile but the other man was too quick. Retreating to the door he knocked over several beakers of chemicals and burners effectively blocking Lex's path. _

_Lex ducked from the onset explosion the fire caused. The other man had vanished, but right now he had bigger problems. He could feel the intense heat on his face, sweat ran down his body as flames licked the air near his face. Smoke began to fill his lungs, burning as he gasped for air. He had to get out! How, HOW!_

"Mr. Luthor...Mr. Luthor... LEX!"

"WHAT!"

The maid jumped back from the arm chair, her look of shock was quickly replaced with a sulky scowl.

"Lord Percival is here to see you…Sir." She said with mock respect.

Luthor stood running a hand across his face trying to wipe the last few images of his dream from his sight.

"Well don't stand there like an idiot show him in!" The maid continued to glare, making no move to do as she was told. Luthor walked over to her, looming above like a giant.

He spoke with a sweet, almost flirtatious voice that somehow accentuated the meaning of his threatening words.

"Mercy, you blundering Halfwit if you don't get moving I'll put you'll be back in the street on your backside… or worse."

Mercy let out a little yelp before scurrying off, she managed to say some choice words as the door closed.

Lex adjusted his suit before sitting behind his desk waiting for his guest to be shown in. While he waited he refused to allow himself to look at the tiny portrait on his desk, practically hidden by piles of papers.


	17. Chapter 16: Tensions

**We are back to Bruce and Diana!**

**Thank you Slyther1n for helping me write part of this one.**

**Chapter 16: Tensions**

_Cave beneath Wayne Manor around midnight, winter 1872 one month after Diana's arrival._

_Diana,_

"Again."

Diana felt as if her lungs were on fire.

"Again!"

They began to circle.

Bruce swung his fist toward her head.

She dodged.

Diana countered with a kick to his side.

Blocked.

Fist combination, left right left.

Spin to the left…

Bruce's fist collided with her jaw.

She heard the smack of her head hitting the mat.

"Again."

Diana gingerly touched the side of her mouth, tasting blood.

"You're holding back…focus."

_You think I am holding back!? Alright…_ Diana wiped the blood and spit from her mouth and got into position.

"Begin."

They faced each other, waiting to see who would move first.

She struck first…Bruce sidestepped, knocking his shoulder into hers.

Diana regained her balance, narrowly avoiding a strike to the stomach.

Kicks and punches flew as both barely escaped the other's advances…

Sweat poured off Diana, she could feel her heart pounding in her ears…. Finally she saw an opening.

Using what energy she had left, Diana leapt into the air… the heel of her foot making contact with his eye.

This time it was the sound of Bruce's head hitting the mat.

_Bruce,_

Bruce landed painfully on his back, effectively having had all of the wind knocked out of him.

Once he could breathe again he stood and observed the woman on the other side of the mat. She was sweating and clearly exhausted, but on her face was the biggest smile he had ever seen.

In a rare moment of letting his guard down, Bruce smiled warmly in return. His eye was killing him and he already was having trouble seeing, but damn he was proud of her.

_Diana,_

_Did he just smile? HE JUST SMILED! Well, Well Mr. Wayne, so you do have a personality. Let's see if you can handle a little innocent flirting._

Diana turned toward the back wall that held all the weapons on display. She walked over with a little more sway in her step and picked up an item she couldn't identify.

"It's best if you don't touch this." Bruce whispered in her ear as he took the grapple away from Diana. She couldn't help but shiver at how surprisingly close he was to her. Yes, they had been sparring and had been in close proximity, but this was different.

"And why is that Monsieur Wayne?" Diana asked through her lashes.

Bruce looked down at her and noticed something had changed. "I wouldn't want my wife to hurt herself."

At that comment Diana stopped playing. "Your wife? I know I am your wife, but you don't treat me like it. You don't even treat me like a friend. You rarely talk to me. I barely see you. Most of the time I feel like you don't even like me!"

_Bruce_

_Where had she gotten that idea from? I married her. Of course, she's my wife. Of course, I like her! She's witty, intelligent, clever, brave, daring, a little reckless, maybe a little too curious, and not to mention that she's beautiful. Speaking of beautiful…_

Bruce couldn't stop staring at her while she continued to spew her little rant. Her hair was tousled from their sparring, her eyes alight with anger, and her French accent became more pronounced when she was upset.

He continued to study her face, her perfect porcelain skin…her thick black lashes sweeping over luminous eyes…..her mouth….those perfect red lips, so beautiful and inviting, what would it be like to kiss those lips? To feel them soft and sweet against his own?

He didn't realize that he had gotten considerably closer to Diana, or that she had stopped talking for quite some time now. She was looking up at him with her large azure eyes holding a questioning look. They were a mere breath's width apart; he could see her chest rise and fall with each breath. Her eyes closed slightly as her lips parted, practically inviting him to take what he wanted…what he wanted so badly.

_What would it hurt? She IS your wife…_

Bruce leaned forward, whispering in her ear with a gravelly, seductive voice.

"Goodnight Princess." And with that he backed away, leaving Diana looking even more confused.

Bruce climbed the stairs to his room in the dark, trying to make sense of what just happened.

_I almost kissed her. That was NOT part of the plan…_

_Diana,_

Diana slowly backed into the wall and gracefully slid down to the floor. Feeling the cold stone floor beneath her, she tried in vain to erase the feeling of confusion and disappointment that was pounding in her chest.

_Did he almost kiss me? That wasn't the plan…_

Later, as she lay awake in bed, Diana thought about the mysterious, closed off man who was also trying to sleep somewhere in this enormous house.

_You didn't want him to kiss you…did you? Of course you didn't. You were just flirting, playing around like before with all those men at Madame's...No it wasn't like that, it was different… Couldn't it have been he is a man? That's what men do… No. IT WAS DIFFERENT! I think._

Diana finally gave up on trying to decipher her feelings. it was probably just nonsense; she was just too tired to see that.

_The Next Morning_

_Diana,_

Once again, Diana was awakened by the sound of Etta's too cheerful morning premiere.

"Good morning milady!"

"Etta, _please _call me Diana."

The maid continued to ignore that request as she set down the silver breakfast tray on her mistress's bedside table. Diana looked at the tray in confusion.

"Etta, what is that?"

"Your breakfast milady."

"Diana, and I can see that, but why is it here?"

Etta looked nervously at the tray, ringing her hands. "His Grace said you are to have your breakfast in your room, like a proper Duchess."

Diana stared blankly at Etta so long the maid began to think she hadn't heard her.

"Milady?"

"Etta you may tell his grace that I will eat my breakfast wherever I please, better yet I'll tell him! Where is he?"

"Umm…HE WENT TO TOWN!"

Diana wondered why that bit of information was so crucial as to be shouted at her.

"Why is that a problem?"

Etta's face took on a look of pity. "He could be gone for days. He often spends a lot of time with…uh in Gotham." Etta began to hurriedly fluff pillows.

"Why would he spend days in Gotham when it is only a short distance from the estate?"

Etta gasped. "You don't know? Well of course you wouldn't know. You poor thing! It is shameful just SHAMEFUL!"

"Etta WHAT is so shameful?"

The maid continued to comfortingly pat Diana's hand, which the latter found more agitating by the second.

"The Duke is a _notorious _ladies man…a Casanova, philanderer, womanizer, and seducer!" Finally she settled on the most fitting description.

"In short my lady, Master Bruce is a _shameless _playboy."

Diana stared blankly back as her mind tried to adjust to the perception of her _husband _that this new information demanded.

_Bruce, a playboy? It can't be, Bruce the introverted hermit! The Duke of solitude a womanizer? That is laughable…But he was a good flirt, and he is tall, titled, wealthy, handsome, oh so handsome. What woman wouldn't give her left arm for a chance at him?_

Etta had continued talking while Diana gathered her thoughts.

"And after we had all hoped marriage would change things, oh it is just so sad! Now, it is none of my business, but I heard tell that he actually _owns _three of the brothels in Gotham!"

Etta took Diana's blank stare as permission to continue.

"I mean, what sort of respectable gentleman would do such a thing? But, I suppose it could have been forgiven before, but now it is just so upsetting to think that he would continue to do so after being married. And to YOU, how could he do this to YOU?!"

Etta was becoming visibly upset at the thought that anyone would harm her mistress. As Diana watched Etta become more and more angry on her behalf, she felt a tender connection to her maid. She liked Etta, but hadn't noticed just how much those feelings were reciprocated. Diana suddenly realized how much she missed female companionship and her friends from back home.

Etta was shocked into silence when Diana enveloped her in a hug. Ett,a assuming it was because she was upset, understandingly reciprocated the hug, all the while telling her that it would be ok. She was sure that Master Bruce just needed a little time to finish sowing his wild oats.

"Thank you Etta."

"For what?"

"For being my friend."

Diana withdrew from the hug and smiled.

"Would you please take the tray back to the kitchen? I am not very hungry."

Etta understandingly took the tray and left. As she walked down the hall, she knew that if it wouldn't have costed her job she would have given Bruce Wayne a good piece of her mind.

After Etta left, Diana took a seat at the vanity. She stared at her reflection without really seeing herself. Within her face was the reflection of her mother and the father she had never known. Diana had never given much, if any, thought to the latter, but she could clearly see Hippolyta in her high cheek bones, full lips, and long slender neck.

_Oh mother, what good did men ever do you? Why was I so foolish? He is a man. I have known plenty of men. They do not matter. Why I should care what he does, who he is? I shouldn't. I DON'T! (Sigh) Were you right mother? All those things you taught me, were you right…or wrong?_

She continued to stare at her reflection, thinking of all the pain and suffering her mother had gone through due to men. Finally, she looked away, unable to look at the painful reminder any longer.

_I am sorry mother._

_Gotham_

_Bruce,_

Bruce wandered up and down the street browsing shop windows, but still not finding what he was looking for. As he walked, he thought about the beautiful woman at his house.

_Why am I doing this? I don't have time for this. You have a plan, now stick to it! This will all be over soon anyway. As soon as I can, I will get an annulment. I can get back to my life and she will go back to Paris and…_

Bruce stopped abruptly at the thought of Diana being a prostitute again. No, he wouldn't let that happen. He may not want her in his life, but she deserved better than that, better than himself. Maybe he could give her some money. That way she could support herself while she found something else to do once she returned to France. Well, anyway he would find something, and in the meantime he determined to get her out of his life as soon as possible.

_Later that evening_

_Diana,_

Bruce had returned from town an hour ago, several days before Etta's deadline. Diana had decided that it didn't matter how she felt. Bruce was a grown man, who had lived his life for many years before she arrived. She understood their arrangement for what it was, vengeance for herself and an act of kindness from him. She would not insult the man who had agreed to help her by taking his choices personally. She would give him the respect his kindness deserved, and when the job was complete, she would return to her life and he could gladly keep his gloomy house, stuffy lifestyle, and brooding insensitive heart to himself!

_Bruce,_

_Why does she look so solemn? What on earth could she be upset about now?! Why is this woman so difficult? Honestly, Diana you are the most unreasonable person I have ever known._

After returning home, he had asked for Diana to meet him in the study. Now she stood before his desk as unmoving as a statue. He looked back at her. Somehow, she had managed to slightly intimidate him, not an easy task. It was because he prided himself on being able to read people. Not just if they were happy, angry, or sad, but he could normally, quite easily pinpoint the cause of their emotional state, as well as be able to read much about their personality. It was the little things that gave them away; a twitch, rumpled clothing, or an anxious glance. But here she stood as perfect and unreadable as a statue. And it was frustrating! He would have attributed her demeanor to the fact that she might have had mixed feelings about last night, but that explanation didn't totally seem to fit.

"Did you have a nice day?"

"What do you want Bruce?"

_Wow, first you complain that I don't talk to you, and now you are ignoring a perfectly polite conversation- And people say I am moody! What's wrong Princess? Angry you aren't the only one who can play games? _

Bruce flirtatiously smiled back, oozing charm he had cultivated for years.

"What's wrong Princess? Angry I caught you in your little flirting game, or are you angry because I won?"

Wrong thing to say. Blue fire flashed from her eyes.

_Way to go Bruce you cracked the code. She is definitely upset about losing._

She stood with so much force her chair rocked. The voice she spoke with was as cold as ice.

"Gooday, Monsieur."

"Wait."

_Diana,_

_How DARE you insult me! He thinks he won? Huh, just be glad you distracted me Bruce. I know things about that game that would surprise you._

"Wait!"

His voice made her stop in her tracks. It was just so commanding that the natural instinct was to obey. He stood and politely motioned for her to take her seat again. When she remained unmoving, always the gentleman, he walked around the desk, stood before her, and bowed politely. (Like he should have done when she entered the room…Alfred taught her that.)

"I am sorry to have offended you. That was not the purpose for my wishing to see you. Please, can we start again?"

_You're a smooth talker. I'll give you that._

They returned to their seats. Like a magician, Bruce made a brown, square package appear from his desk. He held it out to her, but Diana just stared, not sure what she was supposed to do.

"What is it?"

"It's for you."

"But what is it?"

"If you _open _it you'll know."

Consciously, she took it from his hands, holding it slightly away from herself, trying to gage the contents without actually opening it.

"For heaven's sake Diana, it isn't going to explode."

Carefully, she unwrapped the brown paper, revealing a beautiful wooden box. It was simple and elegant. The wood was polished, so she could practically see her reflection in its surface. It was a lovely dark color with a tint of deep red that glistened in the lamp light. She continued to stare, mesmerized by the beautiful exterior. As she turned the box over in her hands, her eye caught a tiny, ornately designed key lock.

Bruce held out a small golden key. She took it and opened the box to reveal a beautiful velvet-lined interior.

"It's for your bracelets, so they won't get lost. You went through a lot for those."

"Thank you."

Diana continued to stare at her gift. Why was he doing this? It was such a kind gesture. _Damn you Bruce Wayne! Right after I decide you mean nothing, you have to do something so incredibly thoughtful. This is going to be harder than I thought._

Bruce continued to speak. "Yes, well I know Christmas was a few days ago, even though we didn't celebrate it. I thought you might still like a way to remember your first Christmas in England."

The actual holiday had passed three days earlier without much notice. It wasn't until Boxing Day (the traditional day after Christmas holiday for servants) that the oversight had been spotted. Diana hadn't much cared. Christmas had never held much sway with her. Aside from a few pleasantries, it had always remained a regular day of business. And according to Alfred, the Wayne celebrations had been minute since Master Bruce turned 18.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Alfred entered, looking as proper as always, never alluding to the sneaky, eavesdropping behavior that had probably just taken place.

_Wayne Manor,_

"I am sorry to interrupt, sir, but Master Kent has arrived." Clark entered, greeting Bruce warmly before turning to Diana.

Clark stared in complete shock at the lovely vision that stood before him. Quite a different picture from their first meeting. A soft cough from Alfred brought him back.

"Madame Wayne, you look wonderful." Clark kissed her hand, bringing a smile to Diana's face, and a slight twinge of jealousy to Bruce.

"Thank you Mister Kent, it is a pleasure to see you again." Clark's smile widened.

"Your English is impeccable! You would never believe a month ago you couldn't speak a word, right Bruce?" Upon turning to see his friend, Clark really viewed him for the first time. Letting out a low whistle, Clark inspected his friends face.

"That is quite the black eye Bruce, how did that happen?"

Bruce stared back unmoved. "I tripped on the stairs." He had forgotten his rather painful trophy from sparring with Diana. Although proud of her accomplishments, he couldn't bring himself to admit the truth to Clark.

"Good for the stairs." Said Alfred.

Bruce sent him a glare, but the door was already closing behind him. Luckily Clark had never been the most observant, (ironic, seeing as he was an investigative reporter) so he failed to pick up on Alfred's sly jab.

"Why are you here Clark?"

"Always the gracious host Bruce. I have come because I need to talk to you about Luthor, alone."

Upon hearing that she wasn't wanted, Diana moved closer to the two men. Luthor was linked to the Joker, who had killed Donna. The Joker equaled revenge, so Diana wanted in. Plus, Bruce had promised she could help.

Clark looked uncomfortably at Bruce, hoping he would be the one to tell her to leave, but to both their surprise, Bruce took Diana's side.

"Diana is a part of this and needs to be kept updated if she is to be helpful."

"If you're sure Bruce."

"I am."

Diana was thrilled. He just accepted her as part of the team! She tried to keep her excitement to herself, but was sure she was doing a horrible job of it.

Clark continued with the reason for his arrival.

"Barbara has dug up some information for us on Luthor." He handed Bruce a large envelope that the latter began to dig through.

"Who is Barbara?" Diana had a flashback to her earlier conversation with Etta.

"Barbara Gordon is my cousin." Bruce said, still sifting through papers.

"She was attacked by the Joker about four years ago. She survived but was left paralyzed. Since then, she has been sending us information about Lex Luthor and the Joker. We don't know where or how she gets it, but she hasn't been wrong so far," Clark added.

A sense of relief fell over Diana at hearing that Barbara was Bruce's cousin. (Though she didn't know why).

"So she is kind of like your own personal Oracle of Delphi."

"Ora whoa what now?" Clark asked.

"The Oracle of Delphi, an ancient place/being from Greek mythology who could prophesy the future and answer questions otherwise unknown." Bruce stated, still not looking up from his papers.

"THAT'S BRILLIANT!" Clark beamed "We'll call her Oracle."

"Like a safe word?" Diana asked.

"Yes, it is perfect. Who is more mysterious then Barbara? Err, I mean Oracle." Clark and Diana laughed over their clever discovery, but Bruce was not amused.

"I hate to break up this clubhouse meeting, but we have work to do."

"Sorry," said Clark, looking truly apologetic. "What has Oracle found?"

Another glare from Bruce. "Apparently, many years ago Luthor was commissioned to do experimentation in order to find a cure for Tuberculosis."

"Who commissioned him?" asked Clark.

"It doesn't say. There was an explosion at the institute his lab was at. Luthor escaped by jumping out a window, somehow managing to escape unharmed."

"Figures, he can't even screw up and break a leg."

"The police decided the explosion was an accident… His assistant was also found dead several days later. The paper said it was suicide."

Bruce set down the papers and began to rub his chin, contemplating.

"Very interesting, I wonder what happened to the research, and what actually killed the assistant."

"You do not think it was a suicide?" Diana asked, wondering how Bruce's brain was working.

"That would not be my first conclusion, no."

Clark decided to lighten the mood. "Bruce, you need to take this girl out on the town."

"What?!" Bruce looked up annoyed.

"The rumor mill is spinning Bruce. All kinds of theories are floating around about who she is, or if she is even real. People are beginning to think you are hiding her. And you need to make sure the story that sticks in people's brains about Diana is the one you want to be there."

"Any suggestions Kent?"

Clark shone a goofy smile. "Actually yes, bring Diana to my wedding next week. It would be the perfect occasion to introduce her to London society, and it would make Kara and Lois stop hounding me with questions."

Bruce returned his attentions to the Duchess of Strathmore. He gave her the once-over, sizing her up. "It's a good plan Clark. I think she is ready."

"You know I am still in the room." Diana did not like being talked about as if she wasn't there.

"I am sorry Diana, but I promise you will love the wedding and so many people want to meet you, especially Bruce's friends."

Diana turned an amused look to Bruce. "Friends?"

"Yes. Surprised I have friends?"

"Actually, I am. Alright Clark, see you next week."


	18. Chapter 17: Something Useful

**Thanks for all the great reviews Keep em coming,**

**The next chapter should be done very soon so stand by.**

**Chapter 17: Something Useful**

_Wayne Manor Two Days Later._

_Diana,_

_I wonder what happened to the research, and what actually killed the assistant._

Bruce's words kept playing over and over in Diana's mind. What if the assistant didn't kill himself? What happened to him? And did someone steal the tuberculosis research or did it get published? Why was there no mention of Luthor continuing the research after the explosion? Was he too sad after the loss of his assistant? But such an important cause was worth continuing. Had the benefactor cut off the financial backing, causing Luthor to quiet?

She hated all these unanswered questions and desperately wanted to discuss them with Bruce. But after searching for hours she still couldn't find him. Diana decided to hunt down Alfred instead and ask him where Bruce was. But upon finding Alfred he informed her that "Master Bruce runs several factories and companies and has a lot of work to do in order to keep them all running. He is a very wealthy man."

"Don't worry Madame, he is only working. He will be back in time for dinner."

"I know Alfred. And thank you, it is just that I want to help him. I feel so useless!"

Alfred could see the young woman's frustrations.

"Madame, if I may, you need to find something useful to do so you will have a purpose. Get out more. It can't be good for you, staying cooped up in the house all the time."

Diana smiled excitedly. "Thank you Alfred, I think I know the perfect way to fill my time."

She kissed the old butler lightly on the cheek, bringing a blush to his worn old face.

"Alfred would you please call the coach, I need to go find Etta."

_A few hours later Gotham Cemetery._

_Diana,_

Diana alighted from the carriage, careful to keep her gown from falling in the muddy street. She felt like a Russian princess decked out as she was. Etta had insisted on Diana being properly attired for an outing, dressing her in a gorgeous silver satin gown. The dark blue cape had intricate silver embroidery and was edged with silver fox fur. The ensemble's finishing touches were a fur muff, and a stylish Russian fur hat, also made from silver fox. So now she looked the part of a duchess, but was also terrified of ruining her expensive clothing.

Speaking of the culprit of the impeccably dressed vagabond, Etta exited the carriage begrudgingly behind her mistress. Upon hearing that they were going on an outing, Etta's mind had conjured up a number of fun and suitable locations they might be going to. However, once they were in the carriage and Diana had informed her that their destination was the Cemetery, Etta's cheerful mindset drastically changed.

Etta had a healthy respect for the dead, and all the superstitions that went along with them. So the idea of visiting a cemetery full of the dearly departed was not her idea of a pleasant afternoon. Upon entering the hallowed ground, Etta quickly crossed herself and began chanting something her catholic grandmother had taught her. She didn't know what it meant, but right now she hoped it would help pacify the souls upon whose resting place they were walking.

Diana rolled her eyes as she looked back at her very pale and suspiciously newly religious maid.

"Etta, don't be such a worrier. These people are all dead; they can't hurt you. See? Watch." Diana stomped her foot over a grave to prove her point. Etta yelped and grabbed the taller woman by the arm pulling her back on the path.

"DON'T WAKE THEM UP!"

Etta made an apologetic gesture toward the grave, while Diana did her best not to laugh.

"Oh Etta lighten up and have some fun." Diana continued to search the names on tombstones while a shocked, and sufficiently terrified, Etta plodded along behind.

"Have fun in a cemetery?! Is she MAD?! Cemeteries are for the dead, not the living. If we were supposed to be here it would be called a livetery," Etta mumbled.

Diana pretended not the hear her. She was looking for the assistant's gravestone. She had gotten the information from Barbara's letter that she pilfered from Bruce's office. A fact she chose not to share with Etta. She didn't think being an accomplice to a theft would help her anxiety levels, which were maxing out at about 400.

At last, she found the right one. It was terribly overgrown and worn. It looked as if no one had visited since he died. Diana read the name on the tomb stone. "Pete Ross beloved husband of Lana Lang Ross. It is good to die before one has done anything deserving death."

"What an odd saying to put on a tomb stone," said Etta.

"Agreed I wonder what it means? Let's see if we can find this Lana. I think I would like to meet her."

"But, but wouldn't it be disrespectful to call on a widow?"

"Etta it has been 20 years. I am sure that is enough alone time to mourn."

As they started back towards the carriage, Etta still seemed unconvinced. Diana was becoming tired of the maid's skittish behavior. _Honestly Etta, would you please just calm down! I love you but you're completely useless as an accomplice. _

"But milady how are we even going to find where Mrs. Ross lives?"

An excellent point. "Well, let's see if the police station has her address. After all, it is their job to know where everyone is."

_Gotham Police Department._

_Diana,_

Upon entering the police department, Diana realized she was something of a celebrity, the mysterious new Duchess of Strathmore. She discovered her new status once she and Etta walked in. All the constables began talking to each other in a flurry of whispers. Several greeted Etta warmly, making Diana curious as to why Etta would know so many constables on a first name basis. She got her answer when a tall, rugged blond haired man came up and kissed Etta on the mouth. A giggly Etta playfully slapped his arm. (She only came up to his shoulder.) While a thunderstruck Diana looked on.

"Your Grace, may I introduce my fiancé, Steve Trevor, a detective for the Gotham Police Department, and former major in her majesty's army," said Etta, proudly displaying the many accomplishments of her future husband.

Steve bowed respectively in greeting someone of Diana's rank. "It is a pleasure to meet you, your Grace. Etta has told us all about you."

Diana's smile disappeared as she began to panic at the word _everything_.

_Everything? HE KNOWS EVERYTHING! I can explain. Getting arrested was kind of my fault, but being declared a lunatic WASN'T! It isn't my fault people can't speak French! Wait how does ETTA KNOW THAT?!_

"And it was very kind of you to agree to leave Paris and live in England just for Bruce. That was very brave," Steve continued.

_What is he talking about? I didn't leave Paris for Bruce. I left cause of…Oh right fake back story, Etta told him my FAKE back story, because that is the only one she knows…Well, that makes more sense._

Diana recovered her smile and thanked him.

"I am so sorry. I am being impolite. I'll take you to the commissioner. His office is this way. I am sure he will be excited to see you."

Etta and Diana followed Steve. All the while Diana was wondering why the Police Commissioner would be interested in seeing her. Surely, someone else could have given her the address without interrupting the commissioner. After a few minutes they entered a comfortable but sparse office. The drab grey walls matched the exterior of the building showing that the man in charge cared more about the job than interior decorating.

A late middle aged man sat behind a desk in the middle of the room. His salt and pepper haired head was bent over a stack of papers, but it rose to greet his visitors. His brown eyes took the two women in from behind a pair of thick square glasses. The lines around his eyes crinkled with a smile upon recognition, and Diana assumed his mouth was also smiling, although it was hard to tell since it was buried beneath a large mustache that seemed to have a personality all its own.

"Etta my dear it is wonderful to see you. And have you brought the mysterious new Mrs. Wayne with you as well?"

Diana stuck out her hand in greeting. "Please, call me Diana."

Gordon rose from his seat and shook her hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I am James Gordon. I was very disappointed at not being invited to your wedding. I am afraid I had to learn about it in the papers."

_Why would he be at my wedding? WAIT, it was in the papers?_

"Um, I am very sorry Monsieur, but it was a very small affair, not even any family."

Gordon chuckled. "Well I would hope so. Otherwise I would really have to take offense at being the only one not invited."

Now Diana was hopelessly confused. Who was this man?

"I am sorry Monsieur, but am I supposed to know you?"

At this Gordon doubled over in a fit of laughter, causing Diana concern for his sanity. Steve and Etta also began to chuckle.

Gordon pulled himself together and wiped a few tears of mirth from his eyes.

"That's Bruce for you, he never was the best at communicating. Probably learned that from me. To answer your question my dear, I am Bruce Wayne's distant cousin and godfather. His father Thomas was my best friend, may he rest in peace."

Diana heard Etta murmur amen behind her at the mention of the previous Duke. Diana's curiosity was building. This was Bruce's godfather? She hadn't given any thought to Bruce having family. Also she was bursting with questions about the departed Thomas Wayne, but now was not the time. She had more important matters to attend to.

"Well Diana, what can I do for you today? Since you clearly didn't come to visit me."

Diana felt slightly guilty about that, but it was Bruce's fault for not telling her who the commissioner was.

"I need the address for a Mrs. Pete Ross. I believe her first name is Lana."

Gordon's bushy eyebrows furrowed in suspicion.

"Why would you need the widow Ross's address? What has Bruce put you up to?"

Diana froze; she hadn't thought of an alibi. She figured she would ask for the address, get it, and leave. Oddly enough, it was Etta who came to her rescue.

"Mrs. Ross has invited the duchess to tea, but she forgot to put the address on the card, so we could really use that address now. Otherwise, we will be late."

Suddenly, Etta began to resemble a bird who has just realized it is trapped in a room so it flies into the window repeatedly growing more panicked with each head-on collision. Etta began to wring her hands and look around the room nervously. Her voice took on a high pitched squeak as if a dam of tears was about to break forth. Diana genuinely thought her friend was about to have a conniption.

"I mean it would never do to have the Duchess late to her first invitation! What if people think she is rude? What if they blame it on her being French? What if they think all the French are rude? Her Grace would never be invited anywhere again. Master Bruce would have to leave town for the disgrace of his wife, maybe even the country! Wayne enterprises would close; hundreds would lose their jobs! Gotham's economy would plummet! AND I WOULD NEVER MAKE ENOUGH MONEY TO PAY OFF MY WEDDING DRESS WORKING IN MY FATHER'S SHOP!"

Gordon thought Etta was going to cry. "Etta…ETTA! Oh forget it. HARVEY! Get these ladies the widow Ross's address, and HURRY!"

Etta sniffed and thanked the commissioner, following Harvey out to the main office.

Steve Trevor was trying desperately not to snicker in the background. His eyes held a gleeful gleam, as if the scene that just took place was no surprise to him whatsoever. It was, however, a surprise to Diana. She stood in shock, witnessing Etta's clever ruse. It was so believable that Diana herself began to panic over the implications of being late to the falsified tea party. It was Etta's quick recovery from her near hysteria that really amazed her. After hearing confirmation that she would get the address, Etta had left the room as cool as a cucumber. No sign of her previous panic remained. She even gave Steve a mischievous wink on the way out.

Gordon had taken his seat again, looking completely exhausted. Diana felt bad for deceiving him, but it was what needed to be done. As she thanked him and bid him farewell, Gordon looked at her with such concern that Diana was tempted to tell him the whole truth right then and there.

"Please be careful Diana. I am afraid you don't know how dangerous what you're doing really is."

Diana showed a brilliant carefree smile. "Why my dear commissioner, it is only tea. How dangerous could it be?"

As she turned to go, Gordon called out. "You and Bruce must come to dinner sometime, I know my Barbara would love to meet you."

She stopped in her tracks and turned back to the commissioner. Smiling as the pieces fell into place, she said, "I would love to meet her as well."

Once in the carriage, Diana stared at Etta in shock. Etta sat serious and upright. Diana couldn't get over what she had just witnessed.

"Etta?"

Etta turned towards her with such honesty in her eyes that Diana would have believed her if she said that Steve Trevor was a woman. (Although that was unbelievable. The man was built!)

"ETTA?!"

"I may not know what is going on, but if you need me, I am here. And I will make sure to not say anything unless you wish me to." Etta put her hand on Diana's as a sign of trust.

Diana was touched. "Thank you, Etta."

The two sat in silence for a while before Diana spoke. With a mischievous smirk on her face, she asked the question she had been most anxious to know the answer to.

"Are you really going to marry STEVE?"

Etta nodded her head vigorously. A large smile spread across her chubby baby face. Loose blonde spirals broke free from her bun.

"You know he asked be to marry him twice before I said yes! I told him I didn't want to marry a detective, never knowing if he was safe or not. But that wonderful man was persistent! So I gave in."

"Oh Etta you sly thing."


	19. Chapter 18: Why Suffer?

**Next Chapter the Wedding I promise.**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 18: Why Suffer?**

_Gotham, December 1872_

_Diana,_

According to the address they had followed Lana Lang Ross lived in a drab, rundown tenement house near the Gotham docks. Rather reminiscent of where Diana had lived in Paris.

Diana was painfully aware of how much she stood out in her fine clothes and would have liked nothing more than to be wearing her old faded blue dress that Alfred had burned.

Etta however, was surprisingly comfortable in the current surroundings. Even facing down a dirty thug who was blocking the tenement house's door. Once again causing Diana to wonder how much she really knew about her maid. Seeing her confused/admiring expression Etta volunteered some information about herself.

"I grew up with six older brothers so I got use to fighting my own battles. The main thing I learned was to never show you're scared."

_Six brothers! Wow, I wonder what it would have been like to grow up with other children around. I guess Marius was the closest thing I had to a brother. We certainly fought each other enough. _

After climbing an eternity of stairs and experiencing a variety of smells they finally reached the correct door. Which after a few moments of knocking was answered by a tall red headed women on the threshold of middle age. She was thin and worn out looking but still held an heir of dignity. What was most intriguing to Diana was how tall she was. Never before had Diana met a woman so close to her own height. It was nice to be on eye level with someone for a change, or close to it at any rate.

"May I help you?" she asked, her voice held an Irish ring to it.

Diana smiled kindly. "Hello Mrs. Ross I am Diana, and this is Etta. We were wondering if we could talk to you about your husband."

Lana became deathly pale, speaking in a soft frightened voice. "I am sorry but I am very busy right now, so you must go."

Diana stuck her foot in the door to prevent it closing. Trying her best to sound as kind and concerned as possible she continued.

"Please Lana it is very important, otherwise I would never have dreamed of bothering you."

The two just stood there staring at each other. One trying to decide if the other was a threat, and the other doing her best to convey sincerity. Lana opened the door and let them in.

A little while later the three were sitting in uncomfortable silence drinking tea from some chipped china cups that had obviously seen better days. Etta was looking around the sparse room as if any moment her worst nightmare was going to jump out and grab her. _So much for the new renegade Etta. _Diana thought.

"I am sorry the place is in such a state, and about the cups. Finances have been increasingly tight since Pete…died."

Diana sat her cup in its saucer and angled herself so she was looking Lana in the face.

"Mrs. Ross, could you possibly tell us anything you might know about your husband's tuberculosis research?"

"Well, Pete had been very excited about it. He kept saying that it was going to change the world…he was so excited… (_Shaky breath_) But around a week before he _died_ he became very frustrated. He kept saying that something had gone wrong. It wasn't reacting the way he hoped. I asked if they couldn't just start over, but all he would say was that the benefactor wouldn't like that. After the explosion he was terrified, as if something was watching him. He wouldn't talk to me, he just kept mumbling to himself, sitting in his chair. He wouldn't go to sleep, he just stared at the door holding a gun. He kept telling me not to worry, he wouldn't let them hurt me. I asked him who he was talking about but he wouldn't tell me that either. He would just mumble some more that Lex was a fool and he better watch out. I got so worried that I went to get a doctor, when we came back….when we came back, he was swinging from a rope in the door frame."

Lana set down her tea cup, nervously wiping her hands on her faded brown dress, fighting tears that threatened to fall. It was obvious that time had done little to numb the pain of this traumatic experience. She turned weary pleading green eyes towards Diana.

"I know what it sounds like, but my husband didn't kill himself."

Diana reached out her hand in comfort but Lana drew hers back.

"NO! Pete wouldn't do that! You don't understand, he was so concerned about staying alive, why would he kill himself? Especially after all he went through supposedly trying to keep me safe from his imaginary killers. He just wouldn't."

Etta and Diana looked at each other unconvinced but neither knowing what to say to this obviously grieving woman.

Lana was oblivious to this exchange and continued with her story. "Anyway afterwards I became an outcast, no one would speak to me, and it was like a weird mix of pity and blame. Did you know one women actually told me that I could have saved him if I had payed attention! Can you believe that! I was only 18 years old what could I have done? Besides he didn't kill himself, someone murdered my husband."

"But how do you know" Diana asked.

"Well firstly we didn't have a rope or any money to buy one, this is a small home I would have noticed a rope of that size laying around, and I was in charge of our finances."

Diana thought that was pretty flimsy evidence.

"Besides he had the gun, why hang himself when a bullet would have been so much quicker? It was even loaded I know I checked. Who would want a painfully long death when you could just ended it all quickly?"

Lana was quickly losing her grip on her emotions. Etta instinctively knew that this proud woman would be more ashamed of them seeing her cry, then sharing the humiliating story of her husband's possible suicide.

"Diana, we should leave."

Diana wasn't sure which was more surprising, Etta's request that they leave a grieving woman alone, or the fact that Etta had actually used her name.

"_Etta we can't just leave._" She whispered.

"_Yes we can, and it would be best._"

Not waiting for an argument Etta stood, thanked Mrs. Ross most politely for her hospitality and walked out the door followed shortly by a very confused Diana. Later as they rode home in the carriage Etta explained her reasoning. Diana begrudgingly agreed that Etta had been right but she hated to leave someone who was so obviously hearting by herself.

"20 years is a long time Diana, if she hasn't learned to cope by now I am afraid she never will."

They arrived back at the manor very late. Not wanting to disturb anyone Etta took them in through the servant's entrance. After bidding her partner in crime goodnight Diana wound her way up staircases and threw hallways until she reached the foyer where she would have normally entered.

She had expected to climb the grand staircase to her room without any hesitation but was surprised when she found Bruce sitting in a chair shrouded in darkness. His voice made her jump so she almost lost her balance and fell down the few stairs she had climb. Grabbing the banister to steady herself she felt a gentle firm hand pressed against the small of her back to keep her from falling.

"You're keeping late hours."

"I know, sorry did I wake you?"

_Stupid question have you ever seen the man go to sleep?_

Bruce raised an eyebrow at to him seemed such a ridicules question.

"What did you do Diana?"

She thought she heard a note of concern in his voice but brushed it off as her imagination.

"I found the assistant, well his wife. Her name is Lana Ross formally Lang."

_Bruce,_

Bruce nodded for her to continue.

"Well she lives down by the docks."

Bruce's gazed hardened at the thought of her running around in such a shifty neighborhood but he didn't say anything instead waiting for her to continue. She explained about finding Lana, and her story of Pete's death.

Bruce's heart was in his throat. _What was she thinking? She wasn't that was the problem! Anything could have happened to her there. What a stupid, stupid, SELFISH! Thing to do. _

"Diana what were you thinking? What possible explanation could you give for going to that part of town? You deliberately put yourself at risk not to mention you endangered Etta."

"Hey, she is more resourceful then you would think!"

Bruce looked unconvinced and Diana hung her head in defeat. _I wouldn't have believed it myself had I not been there. _She thought.

"You're right it was reckless. But look at the bright side, now we have more information about Luthor's research and Pete Ross's death. Besides I believe her Bruce, why would he hang himself if the gun was right there? I think something else is going on here."

He contemplated what she said for a moment before agreeing with her assessment. "This benefactor must have been what pushed Luthor over the edge, but how? And what is Luthor trying to achieve now? You know he has been contributing large amounts of money to charity recently. Making himself something of a public hero. He has also been given a position in parliament, I read it in the paper this morning. He is getting close to something, but what?"


	20. Chapter 19: May I Introduce Her Grace

**Here it is THE WEDDING!**

**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!**

**Chapter 19: May I Introduce Her Grace**

_Wayne Manor New Year's Eve, 1872_

_Bruce,_

_If she doesn't hurry we will be late for the wedding. _

Bruce waited impatiently in the foyer for his wife to make her appearance. This was an important event, not only because it was his best friend's wedding but tonight was the official unveiling of the new Duchess of Strathmore to London society. Needless to say tonight needed to be perfect, starting with them arriving on time!

"Please be patient Sir, you want her to look her best don't you?"

"Of course I do. Did you bring it like I asked?"

Alfred held up a large square jewelry box for inspection. Bruce nodded in acknowledgment and went back to pacing. His torturous wait was brought to an end when Diana made her appearance at the top of the staircase.

He couldn't tell if she paused on purpose or if time had slowed down, but being punctual no longer seemed important as he stared at the vision that was Diana.

Her ball gown was a deep red with a long train falling from the bustle that flowed behind her like water. The tight bodice and deep cut neckline showed every curve of her perfectly formed physique. Instead of the traditional long opera gloves, she was wearing her bracelets, polished until they shone like the sun. Leaving the rest of her slim arms tantalizingly exposed. And tiny pearl drop earrings danced from her earlobes drawing attention to her picturesque face. Her rich dark hair was piled high accentuating her ever present air of dignity and authority. As she descended the staircase Bruce noticed a small diamond and pearl tiara winking at him from the rich adornment of her hair. He almost had the urge to bow down as if greeting the Queen.

After her descent Diana stood in front of him her beautiful face staring questioningly at his, silently asking for approval. Bruce desperately wanted to give her some words of reassurance but upon looking into her eyes he became lost in the twin pools of azure emotion.

Those eyes, he could read everything in those eyes. There were no barriers, no walls. Here was someone willing to trust in him explicitly. He could see her uncertainty, her pride, and sense of adventure, reserve, excitement, and inner calm. He just stood there looking at her, mesmerized.

The spell was broken by a small nudge in the back from Alfred.

"Oh, uh, you look beautiful."

Diana smiled shyly inspecting her silver bracelet before looking back up at him throw thick dark lashes.

"_Merci, _so do you, most handsome."

A cough from Alfred who pushed the jewelry case into Bruce's arm.

"Yes well, I thought you might like to wear this tonight."

He opened the case in such a way as to prevent Diana from seeing its contents. He hesitated for a moment and then drew forth a breathtaking pearl necklace. The pearl drops were held together by thin diamond loops, with one especially large tear shaped pearl hanging as a pendant in the center. The unique pattern was intricate and delicate. The piece was large without being showy, the perfect combination of elegance and power. _Much like Diana _Bruce mused.

As for Diana she stared at the necklace speechless. She felt the coolness of the jewels as Bruce hung it around her long neck and fastened the clasp. He stood back admiring how it complete the picture.

"Bruce, I…Thank you."

He nodded. "It was my mother's."

He turned to get their cloaks before Diana could respond. After draping her cape over her shoulder's Bruce offered Diana his arm and led her towards the waiting carriage.

_The Wedding of Mr. Clark Kent to Miss. Lois Lane_

Clark and Lois's wedding was an elaborate affair. But who would expect any less from Lois. Everyone who was anyone had been invited, and the society page would have no shortage of details to convey to its audience of those unfortunate enough to have not garnered an invitation.

The service was held in a large Cathedral in the affluent part of town. For Diana, who had never before been inside a church let alone one of this grandeur it was a bit overwhelming. Everywhere she looked elaborate stain glass depictions peered at her through large intricately carved stone arches. The black and white marble floor showed her reflection in the candle light, glinting the various colors of the fine gowns of all the ladies present. Gold detailing was ever present adding to the overall splendor.

Sitting in the atmosphere of this incredible building where people had come for thousands of years to worship was a humbling experience. It was in that moment that Diana thought she finally understood why people might travel far and wide for a chance to worship in a place like this. (Religion had always been a rather foreign concept for her.)

While waiting for the service to start Diana glanced around at the other guests. (Etta was expecting a full report tomorrow.) When they had first left the house Diana had been afraid she was over dressed for the occasion, but as she looked around she was worried perhaps she should have done more.

There were gowns of all styles and colors, bustles that were so large Diana thought the wear must have walk for there was no way anything that cumbersome could fit in a carriage. The men were dressed in expensive suits and chic top hats. Ladies had large ostrich feathers in their hair and every kind of Jewel imaginable was present. One old lady was having so much trouble holding her head up for the weight of her large tiara that she rested her head on the pew in front of her giving the allusion of prayer.

Diana made sure she kept her face clear of all expression other than calm indifference while waiting. She didn't want anyone to know how nervous she was. She was grateful Bruce was with her, he had been to these kinds of events all his life and he knew the drill. All she had to do was follow his lead and everything would be fine.

_Bruce,_

Once the procession started Diana's calm exterior momentarily vanished. With childlike wonder in her eyes she turned to him and said.

"Isn't this exciting? You know I have never been to a wedding before."

_Never been to a wedding? How could you have never been to a wedding? _As he gave it more thought Bruce realized how logical her statement actually was. After all how many prostitutes did he run into at these types of functions?

Diana had returned her attention to the spectacle of display. He spent a moment studying the back of her head realizing just how different their lives had been. He had a privileged childhood beyond compare. Where's she had been trapped in a poverty stricken, restricted lifestyle.

_What was your life really like Diana? Did you really spend your whole life in that brothel?_

He let his train of thought die as the ceremony got underway.

_Diana,_

The bride was absolutely stunning! She was wearing a white dress covered in layers of fine lace. The high collar was fastened with an amethyst brooch that brought out her violet eyes. Diana had never seen a bride but she was sure Lois was the most beautiful one ever. Clark looked so happy he could bust, Diana thought it was adorable. She felt a twinge of longing as Clark and Lois exchanged vows, promising to love and honor each other for the rest of their lives.

_What is it like to have someone want to spend the rest of their life with just you? _

She thought of all the men she had served over the years many had most likely been married. Had they taken the same vows as Lois and Clark? Did they mean what they said? Maybe it was an as is situation. She didn't know but looking at the love and complete happiness on the bridal pair's faces she felt confident that Lois would never have to worry about Clark spending his nights in a brothel instead of with her.

_Later at the Wedding reception._

It may have been Clark and Lois's wedding but now that it was over everyone wanted to meet Diana. What kind of woman could manage to snag Gotham's most eligible, and notorious bachelor? A line of London's finest had been vying all evening for a chance to meet the new Duchess.

"Your Grace, May I introduce Lord Percival and Lady Arabella Stuart."

Diana nodded graciously to yet another pair of nosy English elites who were ready to bombard her with questions.

"It is a pleasure to meet you both."

"Tell me, your grace, who are your people?" asked Lady Stuart.

Diana was confused. "I am French."

"No, no, no dear I mean who are your family." The old crony gave her a sly smile. Diana knew this woman's game she had spent her whole life surrounded by women. She knew Lady Stuart just wanted a chance to trip her up, see if she had any flaws she could use against her. Well Diana had been trained her whole life with how to deal with superiority inflicted females, this woman didn't have a chance.

Careful to stick to the script her and Bruce had rehearsed she began her answer.

"My father's name was Pierre de Valier, he was a merchant in Paris. He dealt mostly with spices. Sadly though I never knew him, he died when I was only an infant. Mother died not long after, the fever."

No one ever questioned what illness it was if you just said the fever.

"Anyways I was raised by my Aunt Marie after that. But I so wish I could have known my own dear parents." Diana put a hand lightly over her mouth acting as if she was about to cry. Lady Stuart was overcome with sympathy for this sad young woman. So much so that she forgot to ask the rest of her questions.

"I am so sorry, you poor thing." She awkwardly patted Diana's shoulder and then slithered away to share this new information with the rest of the room.

_Bruce,_

He had only left her for a moment, but when he returned to her side he found Diana on the verge of tears and Lady Arabella Stuart scurrying away. Knowing the old rodent to be a shameless gossip with a tongue as sharp as a knife he was immediately concerned.

"Diana what's wrong?"

Diana dapped a few tears away with her napkin and then gave Bruce a flirty wink.

"Just getting rid of a nuisance. Did you get me a drink?" She took the champagne glass from her hand and sipped it nonchalantly.

"What did you do? How did you get rid of her?"

"Let's just say she shouldn't play games she doesn't know the rules to."

Bruce let a smile slip, this woman was MAGNIFICANT! She had managed to maneuver a room full of stuck up elitists as if she had been doing it all her life. Not once has she slipped, her natural grace and elegance had carried her through and it was safe to say she had won over the room.

Bruce noticed another group of hopeful introductions walking their way and looked for an escape.

"Would you like to dance Mrs. Wayne?"

She flashed a brilliant smile. "Most certainly Mr. Wayne."

Grabbing her by the waist he whisked her away and the two glided across the dance floor.

_Diana,_

As they danced Diana studied her husband's face. He seemed such a different person tonight from the obstinate, serious man she normally recognized. No denying it was still Bruce, he would never be able to fully drop his formal demeanor, but she didn't mind. There was something steady about him, strong, it made her feel safe to be dancing in his arms.

All the charm he normally kept just below the surface was on full display, and the effect was devastating. His dark hair was slicked away from his face reveling crystal clear dark blue eyes. His smile was slightly crooked, she had never noticed it before but it was. He had a strong chin too. As the danced she could feel his tight muscles moving under her hand as it rest ever so lightly on his shoulder. His suit was well fitted accentuating his broad shoulders and muscular chest. For such a tall man he was a surprisingly graceful dancer.

As they twirled across the floor, effortlessly winding between other couples the music faded more and more from Diana's ears. Her heart quickened with each sway of the dance. He was so close, all it would take was an inch and they would be kissing…_I wonder what that would be like?_

"_Dieu aide moi._"

"What did you say?" Bruce asked.

"What?! Oh, uh nothing."

All too soon the dance ended. Bruce gently took her elbow in his hand guiding her away from the dance floor.

"Come, we have to congratulate the happy couple."

Diana was hard pressed to hide her disappointment she would have gladly kept dancing forever.

Clark and Lois were standing near the edge of the room accepting congratulations from a tall rugged looking blond man with a big smile slightly hidden beneath his mustache. On his arm was a petite blond woman dressed to the nines.

"Congratulations on your wedding." Said Bruce, formal as usual.

"Thank you your grace, we are very honored that you and your wife were able to attend." Said Lois.

Diana smiled in return to the much shorter woman and added her own words of happiness. A cough from behind made her turn around to see the pair that had spoken to Lois and Clark before them.

"What's wrong Bats, we're not good enough to introduce to your wife?"

"Diana, may I introduce the Duke and Duchess of Cumberbatch."

The Duke bent over her hand kissing it. His blond mustache felt prickly against the back of her hand.

"Please call me Oliver, and this is the love of my life Dinah."

The Duchess shook Diana's hand warmly and then addressed her in perfect French.

"It is a pleasure to meet you. How are you enjoying London, not quite the same as Paris I suppose?"

"No not _quite _the same as Paris, but I am finding it most interesting, and please call me Diana."

Bruce bowed to Dinah with the most respect Diana had seen him show anyone except Alfred.

"Dinah, congratulations to you both on the birth of your son."

Dinah smiled her thanks and Oliver wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulder's showing a cheeky grin. "Thanks Bats, we have created the ultimate weapon, OFFSPRING!" Dinah gave her husband a tolerating smile.

"So tell me Diana," Dinah continued. "How are you settling into Wayne Manor?"

"Oh it is lovely, a little hard to find my way around but Alfred has been a big help."

"Ah Alfred," sighed Oliver "subtle, but still pushy."

Diana tried to not laugh at that most fitting description. She liked these people she hoped they could all become friends.

"Oliver! Don't be rude, Alfred is an exemplary man." Said Clark coming to the old butler's defense.

"Just acknowledging facts Clark."

"Excuse me." Said Bruce he had apparently noticed someone on the other side of the room and made his way there now leaving the five of them still talking in a semi-circle. Diana curiously watched him stride over to a lovely redheaded woman in a green gown. She was at least seven inches shorter then Diana, but she had a pretty face.

Diana saw the woman's face light up with joy as Bruce approached her. Then with shock she witnessed him greet her with a kiss on the cheek. The woman smiled up and began speaking. Diana wasn't very good at reading lips so she didn't know what she said but the smile that formed on Bruce's face was as genuine and delighted as she had ever seen.

Oliver and Clark were involved in a heated debate about politics and hadn't noticed their friend's absence. Dinah was trying to keep the peace between the two so Diana turned towards the new Mrs. Kent.

"Lois, who is that woman there."

Lois craned her neck to see which woman Diana was indicating. Upon spotting her a look of recognition and panic momentarily crossed her face.

"That, is Lady Andrea Beaumont."

"Do she and Bruce know each other?"

Lois started looking around the room for an escape, making Diana even more suspicious.

"Lois?"

Sighing deeply Lois turned concerned eyes toward the Duchess.

"Bruce and Andrea were engaged many years ago. But she called it off, little wonder given his reputation. Anyway after that Bruce was never serious about a woman again it was just one fling after another. Clark says he thinks she broke his heart. I don't think he ever loved another woman."

Diana turned to look at the conspicuous pair again. _He was engaged, to her? Well does he still have feelings for her? _Diana felt a crushing disappointment weighing down on her lungs causing her trouble breathing.

"_Pardon moi,_" Diana said making her way towards the balcony. She needed some fresh air.

_It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter…_

_Later that evening on the way back to Wayne Manor._

They had been riding in silence for an hour and she couldn't take it anymore.

"Who was that woman you were talking to at the party?"

Bruce looked up startled he had been deep in thought thinking the quiet ride a pleasant one.

"Which one?"

Diana gritted her teeth. But responded sweetly. "The redheaded one, in the green dress…She was short."

Understanding crossed his face, along with an amused smirk.

_What is he smiling about? Is he laughing me?_

"You mean Andrea? She is an old friend."

_She didn't look old._

"Her husband is a very lucky man." He finished.

_I'll bet he…wait husband? _

It was like Diana had been hit with a cold bucket of water, bucket included.

"Oh, she's married? How nice."

Bruce looked curiously at her.

"Why Mrs. Wayne, are you jealous?"

"Don't be ridicules."

Bruce let out a laugh, reigniting the flames of Diana's anger. "Don't worry my dear anything between me and Andrea is long dead. Besides how could she compete with the memory of our romantic meeting?"

Diana playfully threw her fan at his face, making him laugh all the more. Soon she joined in at the thought of him finding her in prison "_romantic._"

They arrived home in a lighthearted mood. Not wanting to wake anyone at this late/early hour they removed their shoes and proceeded to tiptoe across the foyer. Bruce felt like he was a young university student again sneaking in after curfew. About halfway across the expansive foyer Diana stopped. Bruce turned around to see why she had stopped.

"What?"

Diana looked embarrassed making eye contact with the shoes in her hand.

"What is it?"

She sighed deeply. "I am sorry it's just…I AM STARVING!"

"Well go eat something."

"That's just it…I don't know where the kitchen is."

Bruce laughed again. _She's hungry, but can't find the kitchen! If we left her alone she would probably get lost in her own dressing room. _

Wiping a tear of mirth from the corner of his eye he motioned for her to follow him.

"This way Princess."

Quietly the two made their way to the kitchen, Bruce had never cooked before in his life, neither it turned out had she. Between the two of them they managed to brew a pot of coffee and figure out the science behind making a sandwich.

And there they sat, Their Graces the Duke and Duchess of Strathmore decked out in all their finery and jewels. Sitting at the kitchen table eating sandwiches and sipping coffee around a small half melted candle.

As the clock chimed midnight Bruce raised his coffee cup towards her.

"Happy New Year Diana."

"Happy New Year Bruce."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, then Diana broke the silence.

"I have a question for you."

"Hmmm"

"Tell me about your parents."

He paused, thinking for a moment.

"What would you like to know?"

"Well, what were their names, what were they like?"

Bruce took a long time in responding he stared at the candle contemplating her question. Diana watched fascinated as the light from the candle danced across his face, and reflected off his blue eyes. There was sadness and a world of pain shrouding those eyes, she wished he would share it with her.

"My Father's name was Thomas, and my mother's was Martha. They were very good people."

_That's it? Well he was really young maybe he doesn't remember much. I just thought they might be really interesting._

"Now it's my turn."

_I wasn't expecting that, what does he want to know?_

"What was your mother like?"

Diana stared at him like he was crazy. "Why would you want to hear about her?"

Bruce shrugged his shoulders. "Anyone who raised _you_ has to have been interesting. So tell me who was she, what was she like."

"Alright, well her name was Hippolyta." Bruce raised his eyebrows for her to continue. Diana sighed, what was she supposed to say? What was there to know? She decided to start with the basics.

"She had blond hair, it was curly, and high cheek bones like me. Her nose was really strait, it practically came to a perfect point. I use to think that it was a good thing she didn't have glasses because they would have slid right off her face."

Diana smiled at the memory, her eyes had taken on a faraway look as she fell into the pattern of storytelling, not fully in the memories yet not fully with the listener.

"Where her eyes like yours?" Bruce didn't know why he was asking, normally he hated personal questions, both giving and receiving them. But he had realized he knew very little about Diana. And someone with such a different background as himself was bound to be intriguing.

"No they were more of a grey, with just a hint of blue in the very center."

Diana smiled sadly. "She hated singing in public. Once a man had paid Madame for the privilege of hearing my mother sing. She told Madame that he wouldn't like what he got for his money but Madame made her do it anyway. So when she got on stage she screeched out every note!"

Diana doubled over in laughter. "Madame was so mortified that for a month she told clients that mother was a mute…It worked she was never asked to sing again. You would think such a proud woman wouldn't do that to herself, but my mother was more stubborn than anything else."

They sipped their coffee for a moment before Diana continued.

"I was too late to say goodbye you know."

Bruce looked at her uncertain of what she meant. Diana saw she needed to give context so she continued.

"When she died, I was too late to say goodbye."

"What do you mean? What happened to her?"

"She got sick, there wasn't anywhere else for me to stay so we continued to share a room."

"Wasn't anyone afraid you would catch it too?" Bruce asked

Diana smiled at his ignorance. "There wasn't much chance of that. Anyway I couldn't do anything so I just watched. Watched her grow sicker, watch her grow weaker. She just withered away right before my eyes. All that time and I never thought to say goodbye, I guess I was in denial. By the time I realized it was the end it was too late."

"You don't seem mad."

"Why would I be mad?"

"Your mother died!"

"I am aware of that, believe me after she died I didn't know what to do. I was so afraid of life without her, every night I had to sleep in that room alone I ached for her to be with me again. But that's life Bruce, it gives you people to love and takes them away. The secret is to be grateful for the time they were with you, not bitter for the times they were not. That's how the cards fall."

Bruce looked at the beautiful creature before him, sometimes when life has hurt you so much you begin to believe that no one else has ever hurt as much as you. That is what had happened to Bruce Wayne, he had never before thought of someone else knowing the pain of losing a part before their time. He couldn't understand her calm acceptance of it either. Not wanting to think about it anymore he sought to change the subject.

"So what now, what do you want now?"

"Another cup of coffee would be nice."

"No I mean in life, what is it you have always wanted? What are your dreams?"

She just stared blankly back as if she suddenly couldn't speak her own language anymore.

"I don't know."

"Really?" he didn't sound convinced. _She doesn't know her own mind?_

"Well what else is there for me. My life is what it is."

"If you could have anything, what would it be?"

"…_Freedom_." She said barely above a whisper.

"Freedom?" _What is she talking about, she isn't a slave she is free. No one's keeping her here._

"21 years! 21 YEARS BRUCE! That is how long I was in that brothel, I _never _left. I couldn't I had no money or skills. I have never even seen Paris, I mean really seen it, I lived there my whole life and never left the docks."

She got more and more excited. "There are so many places out there Bruce, Rome, Baghdad, Moscow, Cairo, and Athens! And I want to see them, I want to travel, to study. I want the freedom to make my own decisions. And I want to be able to take care of myself."

"I promise you can take care of yourself."

"I mean money Bruce. All I have ever had belonged to someone else, even that horrible dress Alfred burned was technically Madame Marie's."

He nodded his head he understood the concept of wanting independence, he had just never realized how much her life depended on those around her. In fact she wouldn't even be able to eat that sandwich if in some way he hadn't allowed it. Of course he didn't think of it that way, but she did.

The clock chimed again. "3:00 o clock, might as well head up." Said Bruce.

They cleaned up as best they knew how, (although probably not by Alfred's standards.) and headed upstairs. As they made their way through the main part of the house Diana noticed a room she had never seen before. Next thing Bruce knew she had bolted and disappeared inside the room. A sense of dread filled him as he followed her. _Why can't she just leave things alone? _

_Diana,_

It was a music room, instruments of various kinds were displayed throughout. And in the center was a beautiful black grand piano. Diana reverently brushed her fingers across the keys hearing a soft melodious sound. She felt Bruce's eyes staring at her so she looked up. He stood like a statue looming in the doorway.

"I always wanted to learn how to play."

Bruce was as emotionless as stone. "No one plays anymore."

With that said he turned on his heels and headed for the stairs. She watched him go confused as to what issued forth that stream of coldness.

Determination grew inside her as she heard his footsteps disappearing on the grand staircase.

"Run all you like Monsieur Wayne, you can't stop me I will get to understand you, just wait and see."


	21. Chapter 20: Finish the Job!

**Sorry about any grammatical problems, my proof reader took a break.**

**Merry Christmas! **

**Chapter 20: Finish the Job!**

_Gotham, February 1873_

"He's here Lex."

"Send him in Mercy, and for sanities sake DUST SOMETHING!"

Mercy skulked off to do as she was told. _If that woman wasn't so useful I would have kicked her to the curve years ago._

He felt the clown's presence long before he saw him. Jake Napier stood before Lex's desk swaying ever so slightly, not from intoxication but just general insanity. Spreading he vile mouth into a carnivorous grin he addressed his boss.

"Hello Lexie, did ya miss me?" The creature's deranged laughter filled Luthor's ears making his skin crawl.

"Where have you been, you misshapen cretonne."

"Oh here and there." Napier was now sitting on the edge of Lex's desk playing with his fountain pens.

Lex's nostrils flared as he strove to control his rage. Grabbing the clown by the collar he brought the shorter man to eye level. "Answer me you lunatic or I'll..."

"Or what Lexie, you'll get rid of me? And lose any chance of finding out what I know." More insane laughter. "Better be careful Lex, no cheating at the game."

Luthor begrudgingly set Napier back on his feet. "Everything is game to you isn't it? You can't take anything seriously."

"Oh contraire my balding friend, this is a very serious game. Now you wanted to know where I have been."

"Yes" Lex growled out.

"Well I found our friend, unfortunate boy Philippe, I am afraid he is (sniff) no longer with us."

Lex rolled his eyes at Napier's mock sadness. "And, anything else happen in the last FOUR MONTHS!"

"Ahh yes if memory service something else did happen, ooo but what was it."

Lex crumpled a piece of paper under his hand. He was going to snap this twit's neck in two if he didn't start giving some real answers.

"HAHAHA Silly me, now I remember. This girl saw me kill Philippe and his little sweetheart."

"Well did you take care of her?"

"Well I tried Lexie but these old legs don't run like they used to."

"SO SHE GOT AWAY!"

"Alas yes, I lost her at the docks, some friend of hers got in the way."

"Did you at least kill him?"

"No he got away too." Said Napier nonchalantly. Luthor was about to bust a blood vessel.

"But I did manage to load him down with a few shots so he may be dead by now."

"So you spent the last FOUR MONTHS running around Paris, looking for a dying man and a runaway girl and you COULDN'T FIND EITHER OF THEM!"

"HAHAHAHAHA, round and round we go again, cat and mouse, who will win. HAHAHAHAH!"

Luthor was getting a serious migraine from talking to this halfwit.

"Just once it would be nice if you would finish a job without creating ten more! We have to find this girl, and this time YOU END HER!"


	22. Chapter 21: What Happened to J'onn

**Zenness Merry Christmas**

**Let me know what you guys think is going to happen in Paris in the reviews. **

**Chapter 21: What Happened To J'onn?**

_Wayne Manor Gotham, February 1873_

_Diana,_

Bruce continued to pace back and forth, Diana watched him. She didn't feel right sitting while he roamed like a caged animal.

"Bruce if you don't stop pacing you are going to wear a hole in the carpet."

He continued, not acknowledging her words. She didn't know why she was here. A telegraph had arrived an hour ago. Bruce had been locked in his office ever since. Then about five minutes before four Alfred said that Bruce wanted to see her. But so far all he had done was pace back and forth all the while clutching the telegraph in his fist.

"Bruce what is going on? Would you please talk to me?"

He continued, it was like he didn't even see her. Diana's patience had run out. She stepped into his path blocking any escape.

"Bruce?"

_Bruce,_

_Diana stop looking at me like that, how can I tell you, what do I say to make you understand?_

"Diana have a seat."

When she didn't move he gently took her arm and guided her to a chair. Taking a seat across from her he sat leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees.

"I don't want you to get your hopes up."

"Bruce, WHAT IS IT!"

"I think J'onn is alive."

One of Diana's slim hands rose to her throat, he saw the hope building in her eyes, and that was what he was afraid of. If he wasn't alive it would be like losing him all over again. He couldn't stand the idea that he was giving her false hope.

_Diana,_

"Alive, J'onn's Alive? Where? Where is He?!"

"I don't know for sure, but I have received word that a mutual friend caught a glimpse of him in Paris a few days ago."

Diana's hope came crashing down. "Caught a glimpse? That doesn't seem like enough to convince _you_!"

"Normally I would agree, but this is J'onn, he would only been seen if he wanted to be seen, otherwise he would never be so carless. The man is a master of disguise, he is like shapeshifter the way he can take on a different appearance. So either he is alive or our informant was mistaken."

"Isn't the latter more likely?"

Bruce smiled slightly. "I don't think so."

_Diana,_

As much as she wanted to believe J'onn had survived that terrifying night, Diana didn't want to get her hopes up because of an assumption.

"Who is this informant, are you sure we can trust him?"

"Yes, I have complete confidence in _her._"

"Her?"

Bruce nodded his head. "Her name is Zatanna, she's a gypsy from Lorraine France. However she moves around as needed."

"And how do you know a French gypsy? Meet her in prison too?"

"Her father was a close friend. I met him during some of my travels. We can trust her."

"Well at least there is some hope now of J'onn being alive, when do we leave for Paris?"

"_We _don't, _I_ will be leaving tomorrow."

"WHAT! You are not leaving me behind, this is Paris, MY home, and J'onn is my friend too."

"It is too dangerous."

"Do you think I am afraid of Danger?"

Truth be told Bruce didn't think she was afraid of anything, and that concerned him. Who knew what kind of dangerous situations she would get herself into, what might happen to her.

"Diana be reasonable, people will notice we have gone, the public is use to my traveling a lot but you? We have no reason to give for you coming to Paris with me."

Diana smiled joyously making Bruce worried.

_What is she thinking?_

Diana leaned back confidently in her chair. "I do believe you owe me a honeymoon."


	23. Chapter 22: The Last Time I saw Paris

**I know this one is kind of short but more is coming.**

**PLEASE REVIEW I LOVE THE FEEDBACK!**

**Chapter 22: The Last Time I saw Paris**

_English Channel, February 1873_

_Diana,_

Diana stood on deck watching the horizon grow closer, revealing thru the mist the home she had once fled.

It wouldn't be long now, soon she would be back. _Paris, how much has changed since last we met? _It felt like a lifetime ago that she had crouched on a boat very similar to this one, cold, frightened, and alone.

As they descended the gang plank, Diana heard the sweet melody of French sooth her ears. It was such a beautiful sound that for a moment she thought she might cry. English was such a harsh language, it chopped off as if the natural speakers of it could never make up their minds on what they were saying. But French, ah French was like a song. Diana would have happily stood on the street forever just drinking in the sound.

As they rode towards the hotel Diana delighted in the familiar atmosphere. No longer did she feel the foreigner, it was good to be back, even under the uncertain circumstances.

As the drive continued Diana became curious as to where they would be staying, she asked Bruce and was flabbergasted at the reply.

"Grand Hôtel du Louvre."

Diana's mouth hung open in surprise.

"I take it you've heard of it?"

Diana nodded her head vigorously her voice still unable to communicate. She eventually recovered her abilities, but they were soon lost again once they arrived.

The Grand Hôtel du Louvre was the largest hotel in EUROPE! Until this moment Diana hadn't even been completely convinced it existed, but here it was. It was a PALACE! There was no arguing that fact, the word Grand seemed completely inadequate to Diana, this was a PALACE! She walked towards the regal staircase in a daze.

"This way." Bruce said as he directed her towards what appeared to be a tiny room inside a caged fence. _What is this thing, some sort of wife containment room because I won the argument for coming? You won't get away with it, Alfred knew I was coming, he'll check if you don't bring me back!_

Apprehension turned in to petrified once the tiny room's floor began to raise off the ground taking them with it! _WHAT SORT OF WITCHCRAFT IS THIS! BRUCE IF I SURVIVE THIS SORCERY I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!_

The devil room creaked and groaned as it climbed still higher. Diana had backed herself into a corner bracing herself for oncoming impact and certain doom. There were glass windows on three sides allowing her an uncomfortable view of how far she was certain to fall when they plummeted to THEIR DEATHS!

Throughout this horrifying experience Bruce stood calmly to the left of her reading a newspaper while his wife tried to scale the walls to freedom. _If this thing kills me BRUCE WAYNE I swear to all the deities that have ever been prayed to, I AM TAKING YOU DOWN WITH ME!_

When Diana's near death experience finally ended she pried her fingers from the walls and hurriedly exited her would be coffin. She breathed in big gulps of air like a beached fish. Bruce finally put down his paper.

"Something wrong?"

If looks could kill Bruce Wayne would be on his way thru the seven levels of hell, or however many there were.

"What….Form of medieval torture…..WAS THAT?!"

"It's called a lift, American's I believe call it an elevator."

Diana sent him a glare as sharp as knives.

"Fascinating!"

Having never been inside a hotel before walking into the elegant suite of rooms they would be using was an almost religious experience. Diana turned slowly in order to take in every detail. There was a sitting room, two bedrooms, a balcony, and even a bathroom! All of which were richly furbished with expensive furniture, large oriental rugs, crystal chandeliers, priceless lamps, and yards of velvet and muslin curtains.

"I served a man once who said he stayed at this hotel. He described it too me but I didn't believe such a place existed out of books. Now I think he must have just seen from the outside, because he certainly didn't do it justice!" Diana said.

Bruce looked on indulgently as she inspected the various valuables around the room.

"I will have to show you the Paris that didn't exist."

_Paris France, February/March 1873_

The English Duke of Strathmore and his French Duchess were fast becoming the darlings of the Parisian social scene. This was a Paris she had never known before, parties, balls, the theater, operas, ballets, and fine restaurants.

Although this whirlwind of entertainments was exciting Diana was discontented about the fact that since they had arrived they had yet to begin searching for J'onn. Bruce said not to worry if he was alive then J'onn would find them what they need to do was wait. Not her strongest attribute, she preferred the direct approach. But she was enjoying her part in the performance of their cover honeymoon, this was a side of Paris she had never known.

But as the days dragged by she became more and more worried about J'onn. Deciding to take the direct approach she went to confront Bruce. She found him in the sitting room of their expansive suite.

"Bruce I want to talk to you, I know you said we, well I needed to be patient but it has been weeks and still no sign of J'onn. I think we should be doing more or just something about finding him."

"Agreed, come."

"Where are we going?"

"Zatanna."


	24. Chapter 23: Gypsies

**I don't know much about Zatanna so I am sorry if I wrote her incorrectly.**

**Please enjoy and don't forget to review! seriously the more you review the more I write, It's a trade off.**

**Chapter 23: Gypsies**

_Paris France, February 1873_

"Ladies and Gentleman it's time for MAGIC!" The spry gypsy girl leapt from the back of her pony and landed on the make shift stage that had been set up in the park. Little bells around her ankles jingled as she walked as if to remind the audience that she was the most interesting thing they would see. "Good evening Paris my name is Zatanna, prepare to be dazzled!"

Bruce watched on as Zatanna charmed the audience with her magic act. Most of her tricks were of the basic sort but some he simply couldn't rap his head around, no matter what angle he approach the trick from he simply couldn't understand how she did it. The more he watched the more he entertained the idea that it wasn't all smoke and mirrors, maybe Zatanna was truly performing magic! Brushing that ridicules idea aside Bruce resumed his observation. Never allowing himself to become fully absorbed in the performance Bruce noted some gypsy cohorts weaving their way through the crowd, no doubt pickpocketing their audience clean. Making sure he had a good grip on his belongings he returned his attention to Zatanna.

Diana's initial opinion of the show was less enthusiastic then her companion's. She had known only one gypsy in her time, but the lingering impression was not a favorable one. Still this woman was a link to finding J'onn, she would give her the benefit of the doubt.

As Zatanna demonstrated various acts of magic, Diana found herself more and more enthralled. This was spectacular! She found her previous bias being replaced with admiration for this small commanding creature with all the confidence in the world.

The dark haired little trickster was wrapping up her act. Summersaulting into a graceful bow she ended her performance and the gypsies packed up the show for the night. Bruce waited until most of the crowd had dispersed before heading towards one of the gypsy tents, Diana following close behind.

"So how did you make the pony disappear, trap door?"

Zatanna turned and smiled. "It's called magic Bruce, but enough about my secrets, what have you been up to?"

"Can we discuss that later?" Bruce sternly grunted out.

Zatanna sighed and rose from her chair violet eyes sparkling with mischief. "All work no play, there was a time when you used to come just to see the show, ah but who has time for an old friend these days, eh Bruce."

Bruce's eyes narrowed Zatanna had always taken pleasure in teasing him. "I don't have time for this."

"What do you have time for?" she purred.

_Diana,_

_TRAMP! What does she think she's doing! _

All good opinions were now lost forever! Who did this little hussy think she was? Diana slid herself next to Bruce, she stared down the significantly shorter woman like a goddess on high shutting down the audacity of a mere mortal.

Zatanna took in the exquisite woman on Bruce's arm. Zatanna was a clever girl she understood that Diana was claiming what was hers, waiting to see if she would be challenged…..There was no competition even if she wanted to try Zatanna had little misconception about her chances of winning…zero. That is unless the reincarnation of Aphrodite didn't have the handsome hero on her side.

"Get a new pet Bruce?"

Diana inched closer and out of reflexes Zatanna hopped back, knowing as soon as she had done it that it was the sign of weakness this impressive stranger had been waiting for. She silently cursed the giant.

"Zatanna may I introduce Diana, my _wife._"

The look that was shining unashamedly from the gypsies face was one of utter disbelief.

_YOU MARRIED! I hope no one caught pneumonia in hell since it FROZE OVER! _

Diana continued the staring contest.

_Calm down Medusa, he wouldn't have me anyways. I know, I tried. _

Deciding that even if she had lost that was no reason to be unpleasant, after all, all's fair in love and war, or some stupid saying to that effect.

"Well what can I do for an old friend then?" Zatanna asked.

"We are looking for J'onn." Diana replied.

"J'onn? Can't help you, I saw him a month ago but nothing since."

"So he is alive!" Diana breathed a sigh of relief.

"Alive yes, ready to expose himself? I am guessing no, otherwise you wouldn't have come to see me."

"Is there anything else you can tell us Zatanna?" Bruce implored.

"About J'onn? I am sorry but no. However I have some other information you might find interesting. But first what's it worth to you?"

"ZATANNA!"

The gypsy chuckled. "All right, all right _sterces emoc ot em_!" Zatanna waved her hand and a scroll appeared.

"This what you want?"

She became serious as she handed the scroll to Bruce. Rafael got a job at that infernal factory of Luthor's a month ago, he was able to copy the plans to the latest weapon, however he got injured in one of the machines so don't be expecting anymore inside information from him.

He also learned how Luthor made all his money.

"Weapons."

"But for which side?" The magician asked slyly.

"This may not be important but he also learned about something called _the cure_ while…browsing thru some of Luthor's personal file cabinets. It was in attempting to not get caught for that little adventure that he fell into a machine while running away."

Zatanna spit on the ground muttering a curse in some indistinguishable tongue.

"Thank you."

As the visitors turned to go the gypsy girl called out.

"Bruce, if you find J'onn please keep him safe. I'd hate to lose another friend to this war."

Bruce nodded and then directed Diana out of the traveler's tent.

_Streets of Paris around 2:00am_

_Bruce,_

He had been searching the streets for hours to no avail, and this wasn't the first time.

_J'onn, where are you?_

Despite his grand speech to Diana about patience he was finding it hard to come by these days. It frustrated him that he couldn't figure out the answer as to where his friend was. Oh he was in Paris of that Bruce was entirely certain, but where in Paris?

Of course J'onn was a master of disguise, the man was practically a shapeshifter. In fact Bruce was never sure if it was J'onn's real face he was looking at, it always felt slightly altered. As if the real thing would appear too unhuman for the observer to bear.

Bruce continued to think as he walked searching every alleyway and street corner he came too. He would have to head back soon or run the risk of Diana finding that he was gone. If she knew what he had been doing, searching for J'onn, then she would want to come along and he worked better alone.

She was angry that Zatanna didn't have any useful information about J'onn. He wasn't going to lie the frustration had gotten to him as well, but the mention of the cure showing up again in context to Luthor was also intriguing.

The two had discussed it late into the night. After Diana bowed out and went to bed however is when he began his real investigation on the streets shrouded in darkness. It felt familiar, calming even for him wandering around the city at night. The only disappointment was his lack of answers.

An hour later he gave up the search and returned to the hotel. Using the grappling hook he had designed he silently scaled the walls to his suites balcony in order to avoid the suspicion of breaking into the lobby at this hour. It wasn't that he feared his reputation, but he didn't want to risk a certain Duchess finding out he had been moonlighting as a detective without her.

He landed on the balcony as soft as a feather, entering the still open glass doors he was met by an unpleasant surprise.

"Hello Bruce, couldn't sleep."

"Diana, why are you dressed?"

"Because I got back 10 minutes ago."

"You followed me?"

"I tried, but that isn't the easiest job."

A self-satisfied smirk flicked across his face.

"Wait how did you get in, the lobby should still be closed."

Diana found a smirk of her own.

"I flew."

_Why can't she be serious?_

"Did you find anything?"

Bruce shook his head no. Diana looked defeated, standing she wearily bid Bruce goodnight and headed towards her bedroom. This time with every intention of staying there. Bruce moved to close the balcony doors and start a fire.

As he stared into the flames he began to doubt Zatanna, perhaps J'onn was dead.


	25. Chapter 24: The Worth of a Kiss

**I hope you enjoy this one, sorry it took a little longer to get done.**

**Please Review I love hearing what you guys have to say. **

**Chapter 24: The Worth of a Kiss**

_Tuileries Garden Paris, March 1873_

It was a beautiful day, Bruce and Diana were currently taking a walk through the Tuileries Garden. It was a peaceful enjoyable afternoon unfortunately for Bruce nothing good lasts forever.

_Bruce,_

As soon as the over energetic voice pattern reached his ears he knew escape wasn't an option.

"BATS?!"

"_Diana, DON'T turn around._" He hissed.

"Why…"

"_WALK!_"

"BRUCE WAYNE, DON'T TRY TO RUN!"

"_I never run._" Bruce growled.

Diana veered from her orders and turned to face the loud stranger. Bruce momentarily hung his head in defeat before resigning himself to an encounter of the most unpleasant sort.

Once he caught up the brown haired man shown a cheeky grin, giving himself an overall carefree air.

"Brucie! How long has it been? 10, 15 years?"

"6"

"Well it seems a lot longer since I got to enjoy your cheerful smile."

The man turned brown eyes to Diana who greeted him with a polite smile. Interest of a most intense nature gleamed in his eyes as he took in the tall dark haired beauty.

"Well, well, well, Bonjour Mademoiselle."

Diana's smile grew as the charming gentleman kissed her hand in greeting.

"Bats aren't you going to introduce us?"

Bruce's already unpleasant gaze intensified. "Diana, this is Harold Jordan."

"Friends call me Hal."

"_Bonjour Monsieur Jordan_, it is a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise I am _very_ sure."

Hal edge closer to Diana, Bruce continued to radiate nonverbal annoyance.

"So Hal, when did you and Bruce meet?"

"Bats and I go way back, we attended university together."

"I attended university, _you_ visited on the few occasions you decided to show up for class."

"Are you still sore about that tiny fire he started in your dorm room? I was just trying to help warm the place up."

Bruce was not amused, Diana on the other hand laughed at the mental imagery. She found Hal Jordan delightful. He was so carefree and disarming. Every word he said took the listener on an adventurous ride, building their excitement levels to match his.

"What are you doing here Hal?" Bruce demanded.

"Enjoying the sights." He turned once again to Diana, "all the sights."

"And have you enjoyed what you've seen so far?" Diana asked innocently.

"I can honestly say I have never seen a more lovely view."

"Well I hope that means you will return again to Paris for the sights you seem so fond of."

"I certainly plan on it." Hal practically purred.

Bruce was done, and as far as he was concerned so was Hal.

"Maybe we could go sightseeing together sometime?" desire practically drooled off Hal's tongue.

"No!" Bruce cut the other man off.

"Bruce…" Diana began.

"I said, no."

Hal straitened and looked the rich boy in the face.

"I believe the lady is able to make up her own mind, Batman."

"Yes she can! Hal…"

"Was just leaving."

"Now just wait one minute!" Hal started as he began to point his finger into Bruce's chest, but the taller man leaned in fixing the other in a stone cold stare that threatened a fate worse than death if he made one wrong move.

"Goodbye." Bruce finished.

Hal's face became deathly pale, he mumbled an apology to the Duchess and then scurried away like a gazelle that awakened the lion, and decides it doesn't want to be a part of dinner. As he left he tried to save face and laughing waved to Diana.

"Maybe next time when my schedule frees up, or better yours."

Diana was mortified but waved politely to the quickly disappearing figure. Turning on her heels, head held high she marched back to the hotel, with Bruce having to keep up with her relentless pace. If it wasn't for the elaborate dress she would have ran.

When they arrived back to the hotel she was still silently fuming, and her anger had reached volcanic proportions. Bruce may have thought the subject was closed but he was sorely mistaken. No sooner had the door to their suite closed then the eruption began.

_Diana,_

"HOW COULD YOU BE SO RUDE?!"

His voice remained the same uninvolved, stoic, factual repertoire as if he was addressing a classroom of ignoramus pupils.

"You were practically throwing yourself at his feet. I was merely trying to save what remained of your dignity."

If he thought she was angry before it was nothing compared to the storm his words had just unleashed. For a moment Bruce genuinely feared for his life as he saw the pure rage in her eyes. The normal brilliant azure turned black with outrage.

"YOU POMPUS, ARROGANT, ASS!"

Bruce's gaze intensified, now he was also becoming enraged.

"Listen_ Princess,_ don't attack me just because you're being over sensitive…"

"Μπορείτε γιος του γαϊδουριού, Πώς τολμάς, Είθε οι Θεοί θα πατάξω για τα ψέματά σας!"

"ENGLISH!"

"What is wrong with you? Where you just as unpleasant as a child or did you recently decide kindness was for the weak?"

"Listen…"

"NO! You had no right to embarrass me like that! And who do you think YOU are speaking for me HOW DARE YOU! Listen you _stupid little man_! I did nothing wrong, why do you care if someone flirts innocently with me? I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Forgive me for not mourning your wounded vanity."

In a fit of pure anger Diana scanned the room for a weapon. Anything she could use to smash in his insufferable face. Using her unnatural strength she grabbed a giant vase off its marble pedestal.

"DIANA THAT IS ENOUGH!" he yelled too late.

She hurled the priceless object straight and true for his face. Letting out the cry of a hardened warrior as the object left her grasp.

All her life, all her life she had endured the humiliation of those around her. Felt the never ending shame of the men she served, the friends she loved, and the strangers she encountered. 21 years of others speaking for her, of having no control over her life. It ended here.

As she aimed for Bruce she envisioned all those who had brought her life to what it was. All the years of being trapped, of being owned, WHO HAD BROUGHT THIS ON HER?

_Madame, Marius, Louise, Claudette, MOTHER! WHY? YOU FORCED THIS ON ME…AND I DIDN'T HAVE A CHOICE! I didn't want it, not once did I do anything to deserve it. Life has dealt me this and it ISN'T FAIR!_

With the vase went all of Diana's anger, sending it out of her hands to where ever it landed. This was her life, it would be what she and the fates decided, no one else.

With mere seconds to spare Bruce rolled out of the way and stared dumbly at the shattered pieces that now littered the floor. The spot on the wall directly behind where his head had been was white from paint and pulverized pieces of ancient Chinese pottery.

He turned back to the fury who had nearly ended his life, or at the very least rearranged his face. She no longer looked the defiant warrior. Instead she just stared at the wall, her azure eyes looking wearily at the damage her rage had incurred.

Despite her tall stature she now seemed very small to him. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Then calmly she addressed him. Her voice no longer holding the anger it had before, just questions, and within her eyes was the fierce pride and dignity he had come to admire.

"What does it matter Bruce? Soon this will be all over and I'll be on my way. Besides you don't care for me, at least not like that. All I want is for us to be frien…"

Bruce swiftly crossed the floor…he took her face in his hands…and he kissed her, passionately.

All of Diana's senses dulled and then intensified. The world grew both closer and farther away. He moved his hands from her face to her shoulders, and then to the small of her back, gripping one firmly on her tiny waist. She tilted her head up, lips asking, begging. He drew her into his arms marveling at how perfectly she fit there. He pressed his mouth down upon hers, tasting the sweetness of her lips, drinking in the sensation of her mouth. Feeling her soft body against his. Her desire rang threw out her whole body causing her to tremble as he continued his exploration.

Finally, and regrettably he drew away. The two stood locked in each other's gaze, their heartbeats synchronized perfectly, both gasping for breath. Diana felt as if the whole world was spinning and the only thing she could focus on, the only thing she could see was Bruce.

"_Forgive me_," he whispered, and walked out the door.

Diana watched him leave, she backed into the wall, and slid into a sitting position. And there she stayed, for how many hours she didn't count. But after dark fell and he still hadn't returned she gave up and crawled into her large overly stuffed bed, listening to the wind whistle as it fell against the windows.

"What now?" she asked the darkness, "what now?"


	26. Chapter 25: Dream no more

**More Bruce and Diana, Hope you enjoy. **

**Please Review!**

**P.S. I wrote this while listening to the Schindler's list violin theme on a loop and it really helped the overall feel...So if you are having trouble getting into this chapter trying playing the music while you read. :) **

**Chapter 25: Dream no more.**

_Grand Hotel de Louvre, middle of the night March 1873_

_Diana,_

The cry echoed through the walls, conveying a sense of dread and utter hopelessness. Tearing her from sleep with a start. She recognized that sound, it was the sound of an abandoned child, but the voice of a man. The sheer pain and anguish could still be felt, as the sound drifted away on the wind.

Diana pulled back the blankets and swung her bare legs over the side of the bed. The cold air causing her to shiver slightly. She sat there for a moment waiting, listening.

_Was is just the wind? Was I dreaming?_

Suddenly the tormented howl again resonated through the air sending chills down her spine. She jumped up, not even feeling the cold floor on her bare feet as she opened the door and stepped into the main room.

Feeling her way in the dark she inched along the wall, careful to feel for any shards of the unfortunate jar that still lay in pieces across the cool marble floor. Softly on bare feet she crept onwards. Like a beautiful ghost she floated across the ground, her thin white nightgown billowing and flowing around her like mist, lightly skimming the surface of the floor. Long raven hair curled and tussled from sleep brushed her hips as it swayed with her glide.

Feeling the chilled brass door knob beneath her slim porcelain white hand she gently turned it, and soundlessly pushed open the heavy wooden door.

In the moonlight streaming from the gaping curtains she could see a shadowy figure sitting on the edge of the expansive bed, his back to her. Luminous blue light and dark shadows created eerie patterns across the scene. One large hand held his head, the other clutched the bedsheets as if they were the being's sole tie to this world.

She watched him slide off the bed kneeling on the floor in a pool of moonlight. With a fear she couldn't name gripping her heart Diana flew on silent feet to the other side of the bed. As she stood over the broken man who didn't seem to notice her presence, a tender pity filled her soul.

Softly as a feather she knelt down in front of him, feeling the warm rug scratch her bare knees. Her nightgown floating down around her.

_Bruce,_

_No more…please…no more! _He begged, but no one listened. It wouldn't end, it would never end.

_Give me peace…I am begging, TAKE IT AWAY!_

He felt a presence near him, looking though hazy eyes he saw…an angel.

She was dressed in white, black hair surrounding her face, large blue eyes shone from the most exquisite face that ever was. He felt like he was falling into those eyes, deep pools of azure offering comfort, sympathy, and love. There was a magical blue aura surrounding her as if the moon was blessing this fairy tale creature with special powers.

The kindly heavenly being looked at him and he her.

_Who are you? Why have you come?_

The beautiful angel spoke, her voice floating to his ears like music. He could hear her concern but the words themselves seemed so far away. He could feel the emotion of her voice taking away his concerns, but he didn't comprehend its meaning.

_Diana,_

He looked like a man caught in the clutches of hell. Never before had he seemed so vulnerable and scared. Carefully so not to alarm him she spoke his name.

"Bruce?"

He continued to look through her as if she was a vision that could fade and bend with the wind. He spoke, but not to her, it was if he was talking to himself, but also someone nearby. His voice was raw and horse, constricting with locked up emotion.

"I can still see it, after so long…why can I still see it?" He was looking at her now as if expecting answers to these unknown questions.

"It was just a necklace…a necklace…and then…"

Diana didn't understand what he was rambling, his words were jumbled and far away.

"Bruce, What Happened?"

_Bruce,_

_In a moment the fog cleared and there she was, kneeling across from me, why I don't know, but there she was, not an angel after all, but real flesh and bone, warm and strong. It was her, she came._

"Diana?"

_The Night,_

With the blink of an eye his mask returned hiding all the fear and confusion that was only an instant before so present on his face. He stood looking down where she remained kneeling at his feet, staring up at him with those large eyes that seemed to know so much, and yet so little.

Offering his hand he helped her stand, the formal dignity of a gentleman instinctively taking control.

"I am sorry to have disturbed you, it won't happen again." His voice was matter of fact and solemn.

Diana edged hesitantly closer, sensing that despite the change in appearance the man before her was not well.

"Bruce, What Happened?"

Her voice was soft and kind, promising help and love. His was cold…and unhuman.

"Nothing, just a dream."

"Dream, or Nightmare?"

"Figments of the subconscious."

"That can be painful to experience." She replied.

She had no idea how painful.

Once again she didn't exist, in a trance like state he lowered himself slowly to the edge of the bed. Starring into space as if it could heal him, take away the pain he so longed to leave.

She could tell he was gone, no longer was she standing next to Bruce Wayne. His mind was a million miles away and she couldn't follow it, no matter how much she wanted to.

Gracefully and carefully she sat down as well, facing him as he faced the wall.

Reaching a hand towards his face she tried to bring him back to the world she was in, away from the dark place his pain took him now.

"Was it your parents?" She asked quietly.

Like a bolt of lightning Bruce turned fierce dark eyes to hers, grabbing her wrist midair. He growled out.

"What do _you _know about it?"

It had been the wrong thing to say, Diana could feel the harsh grip of his hand on her wrist. But she continued to let her instincts lead.

"It's alright to talk about it." She said, her soft voice lulling him back from places beyond.

He continued to stare at her, Diana could feel her wrist bruising, as the pressure increased, pressing the delicate bones together. She took in a steadying breath to take her mind off the pain. He continued to glare still not really seeing her, to blinded by rage and grief.

"Bruce, you are hurting me." She whispered.

His eyes refocused, looking at her wrist still crushed beneath his large hand. In shock of what he was doing he dropped it like a burning coal. Diana gingerly placed her hand in her lap wincing ever so slightly.

"I am Sorry" he said eyes fixated on her wrist.

"It's alright."

They sat in silence…

"Bruce…may I ask you a question."

Ever so slightly he nodded.

"Who told you about your parent's death? Was it Alfred or Commissioner Gordon?"

She wasn't entirely sure why she wanted to know, except to have some understanding of the grieving process a young Bruce must have gone through.

"No one _told _me, I was _there._"

"You were there?"

A silent nod, the two sat in silence again.

"I was eight years old, Father and Mother took me to the theater for a special treat. They were leaving the next day on a long trip. I don't know where they were going, just that I couldn't go with them…_how true that was_…they wanted to make it up to me, so they took me to the theater."

When he hesitated she didn't speak, sometimes the only thing that can be given is silence.

"When we left the theater a man stopped us in the alley. He had a gun. I could feel my mother's fear, she put her arms around me…protecting me. The man wanted Mother's diamond necklace…but Father told him no. So he pulled the trigger and shot my father right in front of my eyes…he fell to the ground his blood stained the snow…I heard my mother scream, she took her hands away from protecting me…I continued to stare at my father. I heard the second gun shot and felt my mother slide into me as she fell to the ground beside my father blood pooling beneath them. I could feel it collect in my shoes…her hands still clutched the clasp of that stupid necklace…she was trying to give it to him…and he shot her, because he was impatient and ran off….and then I was alone…He didn't even take the necklace, I took it off her neck…the whole reason they died and he DIDN"T EVEN TAKE IT!"

Bruce's shout echoed through the night as he stared numbly at the wall.

Diana's heart broke for that lost little boy. The little boy who still sat in front of her now, peering through the eyes of a grown man. Frozen in time, unable to cry for the parents he had lost, unable to reconcile to brutal witness of their death. This was the secret, the reason he was so afraid to love, to be close to anyone, to even be honest with himself. How could you ask any child to trust who has been abandoned by his parents.

Hot tears pooled in her eyes as she felt the pain of that traumatized eight year old boy. Gentle she reached out her hand, turning his face to look at hers. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders she drew him to her, enveloping him in a protective embrace, strong and comforting.

Slowly, awkwardly at first Bruce laid his head on her shoulder. Then desperately clinging to her waist he buried his face in the thin fabric of her nightdress. Diana could feel his silent tears rolling down her shoulder and chest as she stroked his dark-hair. Gently rocking back and forth, back and forth, swaying with the rhythm of the wind. Back and forth, back and forth.

She allowed the man to cry…and the child, to mourn.


	27. Chapter 26: An Old Friend

**So Sorry that took so long to upload, also we are so close to the end of the story. I hope to have several more updates for you before Monday. And as always sorry about grammar.**

**Please REVIEW ! :)**

**Chapter 26: An Old Friend**

_Grand Hotel de Louvre, The Morning March 1873_

_Diana,_

Quietly she leaned over the bed and gently kissed his temple. _Fear no more, the dreams have gone, rest now. _Effortlessly she glided away, disappearing into the early morning, and the innermost thoughts of his mind.

_Bruce,_

Bruce awoke to find her gone, no trace of her remained, no evidence that she had ever been. She had vanished with the night. He looked around questioning if it had all been a figment, or if last night an angel had finally heard his plea. Sitting up her spoke her name, asking the walls to confirm or deny his suspicions.

"Diana?"

_Breakfast_

The two ate in silence, it was an uncomfortable quiet. Neither sure how to approach the elephant in the room. He hoped desperately that it would remain ignored, she felt they need to discuss their kiss and how or if it changed anything between them. However she was just as reluctant as he was to begin that conversation because she wasn't entirely certain of her feelings on the subject. By the grace of providence they were interrupted by a knock at the door.

Diana jumped up (a little to relieved.) to answer it. The opening door revealed a haggard old woman, her face was shrouded by a head covering making it difficult to get a clear view of her face, and she was so hunched over with age that she resembled a tired old pack mule who can't move anymore. The old beggar pushed herself past Diana.

"Madame may I help you?"

Bruce had also risen from his chair and crossed the floor to where the old hag waited patiently.

"J'onn, where have you been?"

"What?" Diana asked hopelessly confused.

To her utter amazement the old woman, who appeared to be 100 if a day straightened and grew 3 feet taller. Rags fell to the floor in a dirty heap. The creature metamorphosed in a matter of moments from an old sickly grandmother into a tall imposing man in a three piece suit. The shapeshifter turned dark eyes to Diana, amusement twinkling in them as a smile spread across his face.

"J'onn!" Diana cried throwing her arms around the older man's neck.

He returned the embrace, she pulled back looking into his fatherly face.

"It's good to see you Diana."

He turned towards Bruce warmly shaking his hand. "You too old friend."

"And you." Bruce replied.

"Please have a seat." Bruce motioned J'onn to a chair while Diana scurried to make a plate from the remnants of the breakfast trays.

"Thank you my friends." J'onn said before devouring the meal.

She tried to wait patiently for him to finish eating, but the moment the last bite of toast disappeared Diana let her curiosity fly.

"J'onn, what happened to you?"

Bruce was also curious and leaned forward in his chair as they waited for a response. Unfortunately they weren't going to get the wild adventure story they had been hoping for. J'onn waved his hand absently as if the whole event was a bore.

"I ran away, sometimes that is the best defense. What about you, did you have any trouble finding Bruce?"

Diana and Bruce exchanged glances.

"Not really."

"It was pretty straight forward."

"Not very eventful…at ALL."

"What he said."

J'onn looked unconvinced and shook his head indulgently, like a father who knows the truth will come out eventually.

"Very well, another time then."

He finished his coffee while his companions avoided each other's gaze.

"I have some news that may be of interest to you Bruce. I think I know Luther's plan."

"What is it?" Bruce asked.

"As you know he has gained a lot influence recently thanks to his appointment to parliament. And his large charitable donations over the past two years have added significantly to his public image."

Bruce nodded solemnly.

"The timing is perfect, the financial instability the country is going through is the perfect backdrop to a change of power, he merely has to wait for the right moment."

"So he is planning on killing the prime minister?!" Diana asked aghast.

"No," replied Bruce, "that wouldn't be it, it doesn't make sense. Luthor wouldn't want to draw unwanted attention to himself. A death would cause too many questions, if a murder was suspected there could be an investigation and he would risk being discovered."

"He does like to remain removed from the scene of the crime." J'onn noted.

"He could have the Joker kill him." Diana suggested.

"No not subtle enough, this requires finesse." Bruce mused

"Well that is all I know," finished J'onn standing to leave. "Make of it what you will."

Bruce thanked his friend, turning he asked Diana to go down to the front desk and make the necessary arrangements for them to leave the following morning. Once she left Bruce turned a serious expression to his friend.

"Your job is done now J'onn, one way or another this will all end soon. Luthor will make his move and we'll be waiting."

"Agreed, and I can think of no happier outcome." The large man prepared to leave but noticed the other's hesitant demeanor.

"Something wrong Bruce?"

Bruce was silent a moment, "I don't have the right to ask another favor of you, after all you have done."

J'onn shrugged nonchalantly. "After what you have done for me, I would gladly do anything you asked, and I believe you know that."

A small smile formed on Bruce's lips, but it never reached his eyes.

"If you are willing."

"I am."

"Then I need you to do a little digging for me. See what you can find out about a prostitute named Hippolyta, she once worked at a broth in Paris. Also anything you may find about a man she once knew named Monsieur Anthos, specifically if either of them have any living family, or in the case of Anthos if he is alive."

J'onn raised a quizzical brow "why do these people interest you?"

Bruce sighed heavily turning to face the balcony he stared out across the street, watching the people below. After a few patient moments he addressed J'onn never breaking eye contact with the street.

"When this all ends, Diana will be free to leave… I will get an annulment and she can go back to her life here in Paris… or whatever life she finds for herself."

He continued to study the scene below the balcony, J'onn waited quietly for him to continue. "When that time does come I don't want her to be alone… She doesn't know anything about her family so I want you to find what you can. Perhaps she has an old aunt or grandmother who would take her in, or at the very least acknowledge her existence."

"Of course I will do whatever I can to help Diana but…"

Bruce turned from the window making eye contact with the other man. "But what?"

"Are you sure she wants to leave?"

Bruce walked impatiently away from the door examining the objects in the room that suddenly seemed so interesting.

"Of course she does! It is part of the agreement."

J'onn seemed undisturbed by his companions biting tone. "Have you asked her about it?"

Bruce looked at the beautiful baroque masterpiece that christened the fireplace above the mantle. He gazed at it longingly wishing he could disappear into the brightly colored canvas where problems and questions would surely disappear. Quietly, almost in a whisper he replied.

"How can a fish leave the water J'onn? No matter how much it wants to, it cannot breathe air."


	28. Chapter27:No pain so near No one so dear

**So Close to the end you guys, it is exciting.**

**Also here is your reading playlist if you choose to use it. 1. Handal Sarabande, 2. Beethoven Moonlight Sonata, 3. Stephen Foster Beautiful Dreamer and 4. Come out and Play creepy music box.**

**As always PLEASE REVIEW!**

**Chapter 27: No pain so near, No one so dear.**

_Paris France, March 1873_

_Bruce,_

After J'onn left Bruce sat down, defeated.

He knew Diana wanted to leave, she had told him as much. She wanted to be free, not necessarily of him he understood that, but free to have her own life.

_She wants to be independent, to make her own way, how can I deny her that._

Bruce knew that if she stayed he would be robbing her of the freedom she longed for. Even if she denied it he knew the truth. As time passed she would come to resent him, she would feel for the rest of her life as if nothing was in her control, that it all belonged to someone else and that the choice hadn't been hers. And no matter how much he may wish otherwise, Bruce couldn't do that to her.

_Besides she may not feel the same towards me, as I do her._

He could acknowledge that he did have feelings for Diana, but to what extent he didn't know. But even if she did reciprocate those feelings it wasn't enough for her to stay. Besides he had had feelings for Andrea but he hadn't loved her, and as she had pointed out that wasn't enough.

He was taken from his musings when Diana returned. As she walk into the room he studied her closely. She truly was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but there was more to her then that.

Diana stopped halfway across the carpet and looked around quizzically.

"Where's J'onn?"

"He left, had something important to do."

She looked disappointed but the knowledge that he was alive was still to wonderful for her to feel very upset about his quick exit.

"Everything is ready, the manager is finishing up the arrangements. Our ship leaves tomorrow morning for England."

"Good, thank you Diana."

Diana nodded and took a seat opposite him on the sofa.

"You know," said Bruce "we still have one day left in Paris. Is there anything you would like to do?"

Instant joy alighted in her eyes.

"Yes…But you may not like it."

"Try me."

"I WANT TO GO BACK!"

_Diana,_

He didn't respond, she pushed on with her explanation before he had a real chance to stop her.

"I want to go back to Madame Marie's. I want them to know I am alright, and I want to say goodbye."

Bruce continued to study her, Diana panicked that he might try to stop her.

"No matter what you may think of it Bruce it was my home, and they are the only family I have ever known...I miss them."

He was going to say no, she just knew it. _Damnit Bruce, I'll go without you!_

To her complete surprise he stood grabbed his coat and asked.

"Should we walk or take a coach?"

_Near the docks_

_Paris,_

As they walked towards familiar streets Diana's heart soared. The joy of being in familiar territory was the most wonderful feeling ever! She had insisted Bruce dress down as much as possible, but he still stood out like a sore thumb in his fine suit. Not that she was much better, she had worn the simplest dress Etta had packed but it was still far fancier then anything in this area. Right now she wished more than anything that she was wearing that horrible blue dress Alfred had confiscated. At least then she would feel like she belonged with the crowd again. But it was still exhilarating to be back.

While they walked she pointed out the familiar sights and smells, she also explained the background voices' slang to Bruce. He strolled calmly beside her observing her excitement as she recognized familiar buildings and landmarks. He listened as she talked about the other prostitutes, who she was excited to see and who she hadn't thought she would be looking forward to seeing but surprisingly did.

"Maybe some of my books are still around! That is if Madame hasn't pawned them off, that woman would do anything for some spare cash. But perhaps she hasn't, I hope so I would love to show them to you."

They wound their way through an endless maze of alleyways and dank smelling streets. The further they went the more Bruce began to feel uneasy. The buildings and streets began to take on a darker hue, fewer people crowed the doorways and corners. About a block from the brothel Bruce's instincts were warning him like a ringing siren in his ears. Something was definitely not right.

Diana was too busy talking to notice the lack of people and the unsettling atmosphere but he sensed it.

_Where is everyone?_

Even the birds over the docks were hushed and silent. Not so much as a door creak disturbed the dark picture. Even the sun seemed to hide from the oncoming, hiding behind the clouds, refusing to shine its light on what was about to unfold.

"THERE IT IS!" Diana exclaimed running towards a tall wooden structure practically hidden in the shadowy darkness.

Bruce knew something horrible was on the other side of that door and called out in warning.

"Diana WAIT!"

It was too late, he saw her disappear into the darkness. It was her scream that sent him running into the unknown after her.

"DIANA!"

The sight that met his eyes upon entering that forsaken place was horrifying.

She stood frozen in the middle of the room, he could make her out by the scant light reflecting off her dark hair. She stood like marble in the middle of the unholy sight. Everywhere he looked there was blood, and bodies. Each corpse's face has been cut into a grotesque smile, the sides of their mouths sliced upward giving them a bloody, clownish, grimace. As if laughing at their own pain.

His stomach turned violently as the fresh smell of blood reached his nose. Swallowing down the bile in his throat he looked away from the massacre that could have been only one man's handy work.

_Joker, he must have been looking for Diana, and when he didn't find her…carnage._

He could smell the fresh blood from the doorway, they hadn't been dead long which meant…Joker was nearby!

Panic gripped Bruce, he had to get Diana away from here, out of the city, NOW!

"Diana we need to go." He said concernedly but firmly.

She didn't hear him, instead she slowly began to walk into the darkness, calling out names, looking through bodies.

"Mari?"

Silence…

"Shayera?!"

…

"Louise!"

Bruce felt his heart break as he painfully watched her search through the corpses. Joker was coming they had to get out of there. He tried again.

"Diana we have to leave!"

She was deaf to his pleas, she was becoming desperate, running around checking each fallen sister, crying out at the recognition of a mutilated face.

He could do nothing but watch…

Diana felt as if a strong hand was squeezing her heart, causing so much pain it was sure to soon burst. Every childhood demon watched her from the darkened corners of what had once been her home, but had now become the stage to her worst nightmare.

Each body lying motionless, each face still racked with pain even in death sent her ever closer to the edge of a dark abbess. They were all here…no not all…one was missing…where was she?

Her eyes scanned the floor covered with blood and death, looking searching, a small sliver of hope began to form maybe…just maybe…

She walked across the floor feeling the squish of gore beneath her feet, her mind was occupied with one goal. She roamed every corner calling out her name, hoping, praying she wouldn't find her here.

"Madame?"

"Madame Marie?"

"Madame!"

She dug through them, carefully searching each one. Her muscles ached and her voice was hoarse but still she searched. Finally she found her.

The old woman hands withered from age, her face showing nothing of the beautiful young girl she once was lay under the staircase. Her old bones partially propped against the wall, white hair stained with red fell in straggled clumps across her face showing through to her pale scalp. Years of caked on makeup smeared across her face. Her once fine dress was stained and torn. Clutched in her arms was a bloody bundle of rags held close to her heart.

Diana couldn't bear it, she knelt down in front of her, this old woman who had commanded so much of her life, who she had obeyed, fought with, and sometimes hated, yet in this moment was the only person that mattered.

"_Madame,"_

Madame let out a tiny moan trying to call to Diana. Shock and disbelief filled Diana quickly replaced with fleeting Joy…She was alive!

"MADAME! It's me, it's Diana!"

The old woman turned pain filled gray eyes towards her.

"Diana?" she crocked out before being attacked by a coughing fit that wracked her old damaged body.

"Don't worry Madame I am here, you are going to be all right you'll see, just don't worry."

Tears burned Diana's eyes as she took in Madame's wounds.

Bruce silently came up behind Diana, he had heard her excited cry upon finding someone alive. One look at the old woman however and he knew it was hopeless, she didn't have long.

Madame tried again to speak, Diana leaned next to her mouth to catch the quiet words.

"Diana, you're alive!" Tears filled her old eyes.

"Yes, I am alive, I came back."

"Thank God, I was afraid you…" Madame let the sentence hang. Weakly with shaking hands she put the small bundle of rags into Diana's hands. Looking back at her those cool gray eyes showing such relief that if made Diana want to weep.

"I promised your mother…(sharp breath)…that I would watch over you…"

Diana watched as the old woman struggled for breath.

"When you disappeared I thought I had failed." A smile spread on the worn face. "But you are alive, and now I can die in peace."

"Madame please don't talk like that, I am going to take care of you, you'll see you are going to be alright."

Madame Marie smiled sadly at the younger woman whom she had known all her life.

"Don't be sad dear child," she reached a shaky hand to Diana's cheek wiping away a few tears. "The night is over, the song is sung, do not cry, for here comes the dawn."

With those words she breathed her last.

Diana gently unwound the bloody bundle Madame had placed in her hand. Upon unwrapping several rags she discovered the small painting of her grandparents that had been her mothers. Madame had died clutching it so that if Diana did return she could give it to her.

Bowing her head she wept.

Bruce watched as she hugged the tiny portrait to her bosom crying out in pain. He placed his hand on her shoulder in comfort.

After a few moments Diana angrily wiped her tears away and stood with determination. Once again Bruce tried to convey the urgency of their departure, he was certain Joker was nearby and would kill Diana if he got the chance.

"Diana, we must leave now."

She turned stone cold blue eyes at him that made even him step back in surprise. Handing him the portrait she began her work.

He watched in amassment as she began to drag the bodies to the center of the room, carefully arranging them side by side in a perfect line.

Lovingly she arranged their hands and closed their eyes.

Setting down the portrait he began to help her, gently lifting the motionless body of Madame Marie in his arms, he carried her to the procession and laid her down beside her comrades.

The two worked together until every last resident of Madame Marie's brothel was laid to rest in as dignified and respectful manner as they could give.

When they had finished Diana retrieved the portrait and looked one last time at the place that had been her home and the people who had been her family.

Without speaking she turned and walked out into the street.

_English Channel, that night._

_Bruce,_

He watched dark clouds move across the sky as he pondered what to do next. After seeing what had happened at the brothel he was now extremely worried for Diana's safety. He hated to admit it but he had underestimated the Joker's earnest in searching for her, never again.

_He is getting close we will have to act soon otherwise, who know what may happen. I won't let what he did to them happen to her…I won't._

_Wayne Manor Gotham England, March 1873_

_Wayne Manor,_

It had been two weeks since they returned from Paris, Diana was still silent and distant, mourning for her loss. Alfred and Bruce let her be but always tried to be nearby if she needed anything. The whole household walked around on pins and needles, no one spoke above a hushed whisper and all scurried by one door in particular where on the other side the mistress of the household sat, day in and day out staring blankly at the wall.

Even Etta had silenced not knowing what to do to bring her mistress out of her misery. Alfred cooked all manner of tempting dishes in an attempt to coax her appetited but all were sent back to the kitchen uneaten.

Her birthday had come and gone unnoticed by its recipient. She was now 22 years old but stared out the window as if her days were not long for this world. She had grown increasingly thin causing great alarm especially to Etta and Alfred who no matter how hard they tried could not get her to consume more than a few bites. It was breaking the old man's heart.

Bruce had sent her a variety of beautiful and expensive gifts but they all sat unopened on the table, she hadn't even come down stairs to look at them. The stress was becoming so bad that Etta could be found regularly crying in some closet or corner afraid that Diana would mourn herself into the grave.

Bruce hadn't realized it but all in the house had come to care for her deeply. It was like the sun had been buried, her happy voice no longer wafted through the hallways, her precious library collected dust, her horse was neglected and skittish, and everywhere you turned in that grand old house silence and gloom met you.

He and Alfred had had many a conversation on how to revive her zest for life, but one plan after another either failed or was discarded.

"I just don't know what to do Alfred, I don't even fully understand what is wrong."

The old butler turned wise eyes to his adopted charge. "Yes you do Sir for you have felt it yourself."

Bruce looked questioningly at his surrogate father not understanding his meaning.

"She is lost Master Bruce, she feels completely and utterly alone. All those she loved and who loved her are gone, and now she has no one. Is that not how you felt when your parents died…May they rest in peace."

Bruce nodded, "Yes but I wasn't alone Alfred I had you."

"And she has us Sir, but she doesn't realize it. You had always had me, I have served this family since your father was a boy. But we are still relatively new to her, she hasn't tested our loyalty and so in this moment of despair she has forgotten us."

"So what do we do?"

"Make her remember."

_Make her remember…_ Alfred's words replayed in his mind as he starred into the fire. Everyone had gone to bed hours ago but he couldn't sleep, not that that was anything new. He sat now alone in the parlor, thinking.

He thought of Diana, he thought of his parents and Alfred, he thought about Clark and Oliver, he thought about Luthor. He thought and thought until he couldn't stand it anymore. One of the ways he had gotten through these years was by not thinking. He stuck to the facts, to the known, things he could prove, things that wouldn't fail him. It in part had created who he was today.

He feared she would do the same, what would Diana be if she refused to feel, what would be left of the wonderful woman if she refused to see life in all its color and confined herself to the black and white.

It would kill her.

He threw his cigar into the fire and watched it burn in the flames. He had to find some way to draw her out of herself, find something for her to connect with, something she could grasp onto, something to speak her pain for her.

Rising from his chair Bruce made his decision and did something he hadn't done in years.

_Diana,_

Diana was broken from a restless sleep by the soft sound of music. It was so faint she wasn't quite sure it was really there. For the first time in days, curiosity stirred within her. She tried to ignore it to push it away but it wouldn't vanish.

Giving in to the impulse she rose from her bed, reaching for her silk embroidered robe she tied the ribbon around her waist and crept into the night.

She quietly roamed the house like a restless spirit following the faint sound. As she neared she heard a man's voice singing, deep and clear.

Diana creeped around the corner and found herself beside the open door to the music room. As she peeked around the door she saw to her surprise Bruce, playing the "forgotten piano".

She listened to his strong voice holding her captive to where she stood, mesmerized by the beauty of the song.

Diana sat on the floor next to the door, holding her knees to her chest, listening.

_Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,  
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;  
Sounds of the rude world, heard in the day,  
Lull'd by the moonlight have all pass'd away!  
Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song,  
List while I woo thee with soft melody;  
Gone are the cares of life's busy throng,  
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!  
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!_

_Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea,  
Mermaids are chanting the wild lorelei;  
Over the streamlet vapors are borne,  
Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn.  
Beautiful dreamer, beam on my heart,  
E'en as the morn on the streamlet and sea;  
Then will all clouds of sorrow depart,  
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!  
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!_

The music washed over carrying her far away. A single tear fell down her cheek and a sad smile spread across her face. And as she listened a memory long forgotten returned to her thoughts. It was something her mother had told her many years ago, and for the first time she knew it to be true. "Music can heal the soul."

_Wayne Manor The next morning_

_Etta,_

She stood outside the closed door tray in hand eyes fixated on the door knob. She did not want to go in there. Etta didn't think she could handle it anymore, she just couldn't go in there again and see her sitting there starring at nothing. Etta considered taking the tray back and lying about having tried, but she couldn't do that. Diana needed her even if she didn't know it.

_And I'll be damned if I give up on her. _Etta thought courageously.

Forcing the door open with one hand she marched on to battle, she would get Diana out of that bed one way or another!

Her new found determination was unfortunately unnecessary noble though it was. For there sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for her was Diana! She turned and smiled at her maid who was so shocked she dropped the tray.

"Good morning Etta."

"What! Err um I mean good morning!"

Turning to look out the window she spoke again. "It is a lovely morning, don't you think?"

"Uh yes it is, milady."

"Hmmm."

Diana closed her eyes allowing the sun from the open window to shine on her face.

"Etta, would you please help me dress, I don't want to be late for breakfast."

A huge grin spread across Etta's chubby baby face.

_Breakfast_

_Bruce,_

Bruce sat in the large dining room reading his paper while Alfred poured him another cup of coffee. His concentration was broken by the unexpected knowledge that Alfred had managed to pour his coffee on Bruce's leg instead of his cup.

"ALFRED!"

The butler never looked at him instead starring into the distance as if he had seen a ghost.

"I have to get another plate!"

He ran off leaving Bruce trying to clean the very hot coffee off his trouser leg. The sound of a woman clearing his throat made him look up, and when he did he jumped out of his seat so quickly he almost upset the chair.

There in the doorway stood Diana, she looked pale and thin in her light gray gown, but the smile on her face made her appear as lovely as ever.

"Please sit." Bruce scurried like a school boy to pull out her chair, afraid that at any moment she would scurry back upstairs to her room and never come out again.

"_Merci._"

Alfred returned with a plate piled high with every breakfast food imaginable. Grinning from ear to ear he placed in front of her and waited patiently for her appraisal.

"Thank you Alfred, it looks delicious."

Bruce raised his coffee cup towards her in toast.

"Welcome back Princess."

_Later That Week_

_Wayne Manor,_

Bruce and Diana sat in the parlor enjoying the late afternoon. She was thoroughly engrossed in the reading of a large book, her ever present English to French dictionary in her lap. He was going over some papers showing recent profits for one of his factories. He normally did such work in his office but right now he was finding the present company much more enjoyable than solitude.

The pleasant picture was interrupted by Alfred arriving with a message.

"From the Oracle." He announced as he handed Bruce the letter. The latter rolled his eyes he hated how that nickname had caught on. Diana chuckled sensing his annoyance.

"What does it say?" Diana asked. Alfred began to dust the furniture in order to hear the news.

Bruce read the note. "Barbara has found out something interesting about Mr. Luthor. Apparently Luthor had someone committed into the Arkham Insane Asylum roughly 20 years ago."

"Who?"

"It doesn't say."

"Let's go see!" Diana announced standing.

Alfred and Bruce exchanged concerned looks.

"What?" Diana asked. "It could be important, we can sit around here and guess, or we can go ask the people who know, down at Arkham."

Alfred decided it was his job to inform. "Madame Diana, Arkham is not a fitting place for…"

"Get your coat." Bruce interjected, much to Alfred's horror.

"MASTER BRUCE! You can't seriously…"

"She has an excellent point Alfred, we are going."

He left the room leaving Diana and Alfred in a state of utter shock.

"I can't believe he agreed."

"Me neither."

_Carriage on the way to Arkham_

The rain beat against the carriage windows making it nearly impossible to see out except on the all too frequent occasions when lightning would light up the sky. Diana felt sorry for the poor coachman who had to sit out in the rain trying to navigate in the storm.

"So what is this place?" She asked.

"Arkham Asylum for the criminally insane, run by Jeremiah Arkham nephew to the founder Amadeus Arkham."

"When did Monsieur Amadeus die?"

"He didn't the man went insane running the place, last I heard he was an inmate in his own Asylum."

"How horrible."

Bruce shrugged. "It isn't surprising."

"What do you mean?"

"Only the most mentally disturbed get sent to Arkham. In theory at least all other Asylums are supposed to try and cure their patients. Arkham is where you go when it's too late. The worst degrees of insanity live here, how could anyone work with that every day without being affected?"

Diana sat back against the upholstery pondering what Bruce had just said. Wondering what kind of person Luthor had sent here all those years ago, maybe they weren't even alive. Who knew what they would find.

When they arrived the storm has picked up, the wind was so strong Diana had to fight to remain upright as they walked towards the entrance. A brilliant flash of lightning split the sky perfectly illuminating the tall imposing structure. Diana felt as if the huge gothic mansion was laughing at her and she could feel an involuntary shiver run down her spine.

She hurried after Bruce who was already making his way up the long flight of steps that lead to the large main door. She could barely see him in the darkness, if it hadn't been for the nearly constant flashes of lightning she would have lost him all together.

Bruce climbed careful not to slip on the stone steps that had been flooded by the storm. He pulled his collar up around his ears and lowered his hat shielding his face.

The inside wasn't much better than the exterior. The building was in a sorry state of neglect, water trickled down the outer walls causing plaster to peel. There was a damp musty smell and she could see the green hue of mold spreading across the ceiling. Clearly the building and its inhabitants had been forgotten long ago. Over all the atmosphere left Diana feeling nervous.

"The lowest of the low," Bruce said in disgust as he made his way to the front desk, Diana trailing along like a scared dog not wanting to lose its owner for fear of being left.

The receptionist was a small man who barely came up to Diana's waist. He was bold with liver spots decorating his scalp he looked up at them through thick glasses magnifying his eyes disturbingly.

"What do you want?" he snarled.

"We want to see a patient who was put here 20 years ago by Alexander Luthor."

"The little man's brow furrowed causing bushy eyebrows to collide with his glasses.

"Can't help ya, against regulations."

Bruce produced a small sack that jingled when it hit the counter. The little man greedily grabbed it as soon as it fell. With the skill of a crook he gauged the value of its contents.

"Right this way please."

He leapt off the little stool he had been standing on making his real height that of a child. The orderly leaded them down one dark corridor after another. Metal doors lined the walls and the inmate's maniacal laughter and screams filled her ears as they walked by. At the end of a long hallway that seemed to go forever there stood one door, as they neared Diana knew this was it. A horrible stench reached her nostrils, the smell of human excrement and decay was overwhelming. She covered her nose and mouth with her hand trying to block the odor.

The door was solid metal like the rest with a slot at the bottom for food, it was eerily reminiscent of the cell she had been in. The little man unlocked the door and pulled it open, the rust on the hinges along with the loud groaning noise showed that this particular cell hadn't been opened in years. The foul little man held up a torch to the dark room revealing the inside.

Diana lurched back sickened, afraid she would vomit. No words could describe it. Bruce had turned deathly pale starring at the grotesque scene. Blue eyes blanched with horror. Diana couldn't look but she also couldn't turn away.

"Oh Bruce…"

"I know."


	29. Chapter 28: The Reckoning

**Here we go chapter 28 sorry it took awhile life got busy**

**PLEASE REVIEW I WANT TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK**

**Chapter 28: The Reckoning**

_Wayne Manor the next day, 1873_

_Wayne Manor,_

"I can't believe it." Said Clark

"Believe it, I saw it with my own eyes." Bruce replied.

Diana shuttered at the memory of what she had seen in that horrible place.

Bruce had sent word for Clark, Oliver, and Dinah to meet at Wayne Manor as soon as possible. They had arrived about an hour ago (though it felt like many more.) And he had spent that time telling them what they had seen. Now the three of them sat in disbelief and horror.

"I didn't think even he was that insane." Dinah whispered.

Oliver put a protective arm around his wife his eyes looking determined as if daring anyone to try and hurt her.

"We need to take immediate action, enough speculating in the dark." Bruce commanded. The others nodded their heads in complete agreement.

Bruce took on the air of a hardened war general, a masterful tactician ready to lead his solders to glory or death.

"So what do we suspect?"

"Selling weapons to enemies of the crown, which resulted in his fortune growing so rapidly." Oliver volunteered.

"Selling national secrets." Clark added.

"Plotting to get rid of the prime minister and being appointed to his place." Said Dinah.

"Murder." Diana bit out venomously, causing the others to shift uncomfortably.

Bruce's mind was working like a well-oiled machine, complex and precise.

"Our main problem is that we have never been able to gather substantial evidence for any of those things."

"Not for lack of trying." Oliver sulked.

"That's immaterial." Bruce reproached him.

"What we need is to get evidence and there is only one place it could be…Luthor's factory."

Four shocked faces starred back at him trying to gauge if he was serious, they should have known better…Bruce was always serious.

No one spoke, finally Clark stood and looked his friend dead in the eyes. "Are you suggesting we break into his factory?"

"Yes."

"If the catch us they'll kill us!" said Oliver, who personally didn't feel ready to meet his maker.

"I understand" said Bruce "which is why it is up to you, but I am going."

They continued to sit in silence each trying to consciously measure out their willingness to risk death. At last the one deemed least likely took the lead. Dinah stood.

"When do we leave?"

_Lex Luthor's Office._

_Lex Luthor,_

Lord Percival Stuart sat in a wooden chair that could barely contain his rotund figure. He was so uncomfortably squeezed into his seat that packets of fat bulged out of the gapping woodwork design. His large posterior couldn't completely fit making him have to balance carefully on the balls of his feet. He looked like a child's ball with a head and feet attached. His little hands looked as if they belonged to an infant and his arms where too short to reach his head without him bending comically, which he was doing at the moment in an attempt to wipe the river of sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. His buggy eyes looked skittishly back and forth, bouncing from object to object.

Lex Luthor on the opposite side of the desk was the mirrored opposite of his guest. Calm and in control with a slightly amused smirk on his face. His tall height even while sitting caused him to dwarf the other man.

Lex sighed regrettably feigning concern as he addressed this sniveling little man. "I am very disappointed about this."

Lord Stuart attempted again to wipe the sweat off his head which was now pouring down his face. He tried to speak with authority and conviction but only managed to squeak.

"I am sorry, b-but I can't support y-y-you."

"That's too bad, in truth I don't need your support."

Lord Stuart gave a sigh of relieve and his face lit up with joy. He was off the hook!

"Unfortunately," Lex continued "that means I don't need _you_ at all."

Percival nearly chocked on his own tongue, he struggled to get out of his chair like a mouse who has just realized it's a trap.

"MERCY!"

The maid appeared from nowhere and immobilized Lord Percival Stuart by twisting his arm behind his back. The short man whimpered in pain.

"Take care of it my dear." Said Luthor looking out the window as he sipped his tea, looking every inch the relaxed country gentleman.

A blood lust smile spread across Mercy's face as she forced Lord Stuart out of the office. Before exiting however she was stopped by Luthor.

"And Mercy…make sure no one can recognize the corpse."

He continued to sip his tea as Lord Stuart's pleas echoed from the hallway.

Luthor continued to look out the window of his fashionable London office.

"Tomorrow it begins." He said to himself.

Walking back to his desk he uncovered the tiny portrait that had been buried by papers long ago. Clearing the dust off the frame so the face was visible, he looks at it for the first time in many years.

A woman's face softly smiled back, her head tilted ever so slightly up as if she could see heaven. Her light brown hair was arranged in a once fashionable style that left chestnut curls framing her face. The black gown she wore made her ivory skin appear all the more stunning. Despite the fact that the paint had faded with age her clear grey eyes still shone through as if portrayed yesterday. She seemed sad but sweet. The shy gentle spirit of her still evident in the face so long forgotten.

"Tomorrow-it ends."

_Wayne Manor_

_Diana,_

Diana looked at herself in the mirror, never before had she worn an outfit like this. There was no skirt, instead she wore what appeared to be a pair of men's trousers except they were tailored to fit her body like a glove. Her blouse was reminiscent of a riding habit except it was louse fitting under the arms and around the shoulders allowing more movement. But snug to her body around her waist and arms. Her normally elaborate slippers had been replaced by high lacing boots. The whole ensemble was black giving her a mysterious air. Her long raven hair was tied back with a cord at the base of her scalp allowing it to fall free but away from her face. Simply put she was the strangest sight she had ever seen.

"It's still you Diana." Dinah laughed as she observed her quizzical inspection. Dinah was dressed similarly.

Diana continued to turn in front of the mirror. "Remind me again why we are dressed like this?"

"Because," said Dinah joining her in front of the mirror. "You can't fight crime in a bustle."

The girls made their way to the foyer where the men had already assembled. Once they arrived Diana took a minute to compare the boy's outfits to her own. It seemed everyone was keeping to the dark color scheme. Though Oliver seemed to be a little more freelance then the others. He was sporting a mix of dark green and black, he also wore a Robin Hood like hat. His bow and a quiver of mechanical looking arrows where slung across his back making him look like a rough vagabond. He was also the only one to be wearing a mask.

Clark was probably the simplest dressed just wearing a black suit clearly he wasn't as fond of the idea of breaking and entering as Oliver who had gone to great lengths to appear heroic.

Finally there was Bruce (her personal favorite.) he wore black trousers and boots as well as a black vest over a very nicely fitting grey shirt. He appeared the most serious of the three. Around his waist was a belt with all kinds of pockets and holders on it. The belt was partially hidden though by the long black coat he wore. All in all a pretty imposing figure.

Realizing that they had all arrived Bruce suggested they leave with all of his normal consideration.

"Good let's go."

"Sure why wouldn't we want to hurry to our deaths!" Oliver retorted. Oddly enough Clark came to Bruce's aid.

"Oliver! Be serious Bruce is right we have no time to waist."

After witnessing that miracle they followed Clark outside to where their horses waited for them.

_Lex Luthor's Weapons Factory around midnight._

They rode through the woods, away from the main road to avoid being scene. The night was clear and the moon shone bright, which was to their disadvantage. The factory was located on the outskirts of Gotham, in the woods. Pulling the horses to a halt next to the clearing they dismounted.

Dinah was the first to exit the woods the rest watched from the bushes waiting to see what the canary found in the mine shaft.

"You there stop!"

Two sentries make a beeline for Dinah, she met them head on.

Dinah ran towards them at full speed.

She leapt into the air delivering a roundhouse kick to the head.

She grabbed the second man's arm bending it out of its socket

Then delivered a severe punch to the face.

The first stood and pointed his gun at her.

She flipped back kicking the man in the face rendering him unconscious.

The second began shooting with his good arm.

Weaving as she ran Dinah reached him.

Slapping her hands on his temples she attached two circular devices.

Then turned a knob on a squire box she pulled from her belt.

The man grabbed his skull in agony.

Then fell, unconscious.

Dinah picked up one of the guns and motioned for the others to come forward.

To say Diana was impressed would have been the greatest understatement in history. One look at Clark's face proved he felt the same way. Who would have thought that the small frail looking Duchess of Cumberbatch could fight-LIKE THAT!

"You go ahead I'll safeguard the horses." Dinah said motioning them with the confiscated gun.

The remaining four raced across the clearing towards the factory. Once at the base of the building Bruce pulled a grappling device from one of his endless compartments. He handed one to Diana. She followed his instructions and used it to scale the wall to the second story window. Once at the top they lowered a rope to Oliver and Clark using their combined weight to pull them up.

After helping Clark climb through the small window that barely accommodated his broad shoulders Diana turned to look at the room.

They were in what appeared to be a large storage room. Weapons of all kinds lined the walls and shelves reaching far above their heads towards the celling.

They walked on silent feet past rows and rows of different bombs, hand grenades, and guns.

Something caught her eye, she picked up a gun unlike any she had ever seen. It was small enough to be a hand gun but the design was completely different.

"_Clark!_" Diana hissed motioning for him to come towards her.

Clark looked over his shoulder to be sure he could still see Bruce and Oliver before walking her way.

"What?"

Diana held up the gun and Clark let out a low whistle.

"Wow."

"What is it?" Diana implored as Clark took the gun from her hands inspecting it carefully.

"I have heard about these, but never saw one. It is a silent gun."

"What? How can a gun be silent?"

"I don't really know but in theory this gun can deliver a shot with all the accuracy and power of a machine gun without making a single sound."

Diana stared back at the slick black barrel. _Imagine never hearing the shot coming for you._

"Come on," said Clark regaining focus.

Diana went to put the gun back but paused, turning to make sure Clark wasn't looking she slid it into her boot. _You never know._

After exiting storage they found themselves in a labyrinth of dark windowless hallways that seemed to go forever.

"We need to find Luthor's office." Bruce said.

"Oliver, Clark! You two head down that direction and see what you can find, we'll meet back here in no less than five minutes understood?"

They nodded.

Diana watched the two disappear down the dark endless corridor.

Bruce motioned her on.

They crept forward, sticking to the shadows. The hallway had turned into an endless tunnel showing neither where it began nor where it would end. It was dark as a tomb the only lighting was that from the occasional gas lamp fixed to the wall every 100 feet or so.

When they reached the fourth light Diana was beginning to believe that there was nothing but darkness in both directions. She had just stepped into the unsettling yellow patch of light created by the lamp making her feel exposed when suddenly…

Bruce fell to the ground with a groan clutching his leg.

She ran to him.

"Bruce, what is wrong?"

Bringing his glove to his mouth he bit the fingers pulling it off. Reaching down he put his bare hand to his thigh, when he brought it back to the light it was red with blood. _He has been shot! _

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Her heart stopped. _It can't be! _Slowly she turned, the smiling face that had haunted her since she fled stepped out of the dark, grinning, laughing, the demon had arrived…and she… was petrified!

"Well well well looks like I found the mouse!" His laughter sent fear coursing through her body.

"You know you are very pretty my dear, seems almost a shame to kill you… but alas I am a man of my word!"

The Joker pointed the gun strait for her heart. She should run…fight…SOMETHING! But she couldn't, she just sat frozen in fear.

Bruce took his good leg and swung it with all his might knocking the Joker on his back.

"RUN DIANA RUN!"

_Run, Run, RUN, RUN! _She leapt to her feet running as fast as her legs could carry her, she had to get away. All of a sudden she was back in Paris, running down the dark alleyways in the snow, a homicidal maniac following her chasing her, _TRYING TO KILL HER!_

She had forgotten Bruce still injured and laying on the floor so consumed was she by the terror pounding in her ears.

_Run Diana, Run… _Bruce struggled to stand his leg still on fire with pain, but Joker beat him to it.

Taking out a knife he stood over Bruce holding it to his throat the cold steel pressing against his neck. He held his breath, knowing that even that slight movement will result in a slice. The pain in his thigh intensified as Joker put pressure on the wound, still he refused to cry out in the sheer agony he was feeling. Sweat formed on his brow as he struggled to focus, insane laughter filling his ears.

"She'll have to wait, I have been looking forward to this…time to have some fun!"

"You don't have to do this anymore, you don't have to be Luthor's hunting dog." Bruce said.

A vicious smile spread across his unnaturally pale face showing yellow teeth, a crazed look in his eyes. "What makes you think I need him? My dear boy, I am having the time of my life!"

His laughter echoed across the endless hallways, and for the first time Bruce genuinely felt a twinge of fear for his life.

Joker leaned in, "Let's see you SMILE!" drawing back the creature laughed harder than before as if this was the funniest thing he had ever heard.

His laughter stopped…

Blood splattered on Bruce's face as he watched red blood pour down the Joker's face. His grin still firmly in place as his eyes rolled back in his head. He watched as the demon who was finally silenced fell.


	30. Chapter 29: Fire and Brimstone

**HERE WE GO COUNT DOWN TO THE END!**

**OK if there was ever a time I wanted to know what you guys think this is it, please don't hold back and REVIEW!**

**Chapter 29: Fire and Brimstone**

_The Factory_

Pushing the dead body off him Bruce struggled to stand again never breaking eye contact with the corpse in case he stood and the laughter resumed.

At last assured he was dead Bruce tore his gaze away and looked down the hall. There stood Diana, a look of fierce determination on her face, and in her hand a gun, still aimed at where the Joker had stood…She had killed him.

Her face was calm but angry, she lowered the gun and walked over to the Joker's motionless body. Kicking him over with her foot she looked at the blood stained smashed face that had caused her so much pain.

"Go to Hell."

She helped Bruce stand, keeping his weight off his injured leg.

"Diana what have you done?"

"Justice."

There was nothing to say, what had been done was done, the two continued walking down the hall.

After making their way back to the meeting point Oliver and Clark asked what had happened.

"My sisters can now rest in peace." Said Diana.

"She killed the Joker." Bruce said. A small part of him felt she was justified, but his conscious couldn't condone the taking of human life…not after his parents.

Oliver looked at her with a new respect, Clark remained silent.

They kept going…More endless hallways…Finally they exited the endless pit of darkness and walked into the largest open room many of them had ever seen.

The endless rows of Machines and assembly lines showed that what they had stumbled upon was the production floor.

Looking up roughly 100 hundred feet in the air were two suspended metal catwalks one directly above the other. In the center of the lowest one was a square room hanging vicariously above the production floor below. Giving a bird's eye vantage point of the whole space.

"That has to be it." Clark said.

The rest nodded in agreement trying to locate a mode of transportation to the catwalks above.

"Over there" Oliver motioned.

The group made their way up a rickety metal ladder that swayed with the slightest breath. Slowly the inched along.

Once at the top they walked across the catwalk that rolled like the deck of a ship. Someone who had walked this before would have no doubt accomplished the feat with more ease and grace then they now did. But the combination of strange environment, heightened nervous and the knowledge of what they risked did not help their unsteady footing on the swaying bridge.

Bruce was the only one who ventured forward with any semblance of confidence and even that was hindered by the wound in his leg which by now had contributed to a severe loss of blood. That fact was partially hidden by the dark materiel of his trousers and the pride that would never willingly admit that he had any form of true weak beyond inconvenience. So with an acting skill that would draw acclaim from Shakespeare himself he limped with power and authority towards the ominous room. Never betraying to his companions to what true degree was his physical pain.

Once inside everyone searched through filing cabinets, desks and the like looking for evidence, any shred of information that could be used to lock away Mr. Lex Luthor.

Oliver was stationed lookout peering through the cracked open door they had entered. There were doors on either side of the office leading to walkways, and windows off one end showing the production floor. The perfect seat of power for an absolute ruler.

"Have you found anything?"

"No!"

"Don't stop, keep looking."

"_Shhhhhhhhh…_"

It may have been an hour it may have been a minute time seemed to be playing tricks speeding up and slowing down at the same time. But no matter how much time had passed they still hadn't found anything. Bruce had found a safe hidden in the desk and was in the process of breaking the code while Diana and Clark continued to forge through filing cabinets.

"Uh we have company!" Oliver announced from his lookout post. "And looks like it brought some friends!"

"_Who?_" Bruce hissed.

"_LUTHOR!_" Oliver whispered back. "_And he has an armed body guard!_"

The slightly closed door had caused Oliver to have a blind spot hiding the cat from the mouse until it was uncomfortably close.

"_How many?"_

_"__At least ten."_

_"…__EVERYBODY OUT!"_

They scrambled to get out the second door, thankfully the office acted as an anchoring point for the two adjoining catwalks to prevent swaying so the oncoming horde was not alerted to those escaping the other side.

Panic started to grip as they heard nearing footsteps.

"Go, go go!" Bruce yelled/whispered.

They raced for the door, Oliver was the first out then Diana.

As she ran out she remembered that Bruce was injured. Without missing a beat she turned and headed back for him.

She turned and ran into Clark who had been following, his large body blocked the way and she could see Bruce limping towards the door over Clark's shoulder.

_MOVE CLARK I have to help Bruce!_

Diana's heart stopped as she saw the firs door directly behind Bruce begin to creak open.

_We have to get out of here NOW!_

Bruce looked back for a millisecond, enough time to make his decision. The blood loss from his leg was catching up to him, there was no way they would get out if he was holding them back.

"Clark get her out of here."

Bruce shut the door closing himself inside.

_BRUCE! _Diana mentally screamed he was still inside…he had closed himself inside…she had to get to him, Luthor was coming he would KILL HIM!

Diana lurched for the door but Clark was quicker. Covering her mouth with his hand he dragged her away from the office. Diana fought with everything she had. It wasn't until then that she realized how strong Clark was. She had always been a force to be reckoned with and even though Clark was a large man she had assumed he didn't hold much in the way of physical strength given his kind and humble demeanor.

She had been wrong…with the strength of several Clark lifted her off the ground, her furious cries held back by his large hand. She put up a good fight but he still carried her away…away from him.

Oliver had spotted a ladder near the end of the catwalk that lead to the one above, there was no way down so they had no choice but to go up.

Oliver helped Clark pull Diana up though she made it as hard as possible for them. Each minute they held her up was another minute Bruce was trapped! She had to get to him, why didn't they understand?

Clark and Oliver understood but they also realized what Bruce had done, he had bought them time to get away, and only a fool would give back that gift.

When they reached the top they laid as flat as possible on the floor of the upper catwalk, Clark still holding Diana down. Peering over the edge the three had a perfect view of the office and the roughly ten heavily armed body guards guarding the door.

Diana finally stopped struggling as she realized how hopeless the situation was. Even with her sudden cooperation Clark didn't dare remove his hand from muffling her mouth. They stayed there unmoving for what seemed like years…waiting.

_Bruce,_

Lex Luthor walked in to his office and found a man standing in front of the opposite door, a vicious smile spread across Luthor's face.

"At last we meet, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce turned around to face him appearing completely calm and in control. His eye momentarily slid to the window trying to figure how far of a drop it was to the production floor.

"I wouldn't try to leave if I were you. One snap of my fingers and you'll be so pumped full of led you'll fall through the floor."

Bruce's eyes narrowed but didn't move but he knew Luthor was right, any attempt to take out Lex or escape would mean his immediate death and that wasn't an option…he still had so much to learn.

Luthor smiled wolfishly "Ah the famous Bruce Wayne glare, not as impressive as I was led to believe."

Bruce gave Luthor a glare that showed all his contempt he held for Luthor's futile attempts at intimidation.

Lex hesitates for a millisecond, it would go unnoticed to the untrained eye but Bruce knew he had him.

"Please, have a seat." Luthor motioned to a stool across from his desk.

Bruce knew it would be suicide to refuse so he limped over and took a seat.

The office was small, the stool sat against the wall but was still no less than 3 feet from the desk. Over all rather modest for a man of Luthor's ego.

He was becoming weak from blood loss, but managed to keep all sign of weakness from his face. It didn't matter Luthor looked down at the small pool beginning to form under Bruce's leg and smiled.

"Really I expected more from you…breaking in to my office like a common thief, a bit below a Duke."

No response

"Then again you don't seem to be one for tradition, marring an unknown French girl, tell me where did you pick her up?"

He was trying to bate him and Bruce knew it.

"I saw Lex."

Luthor ignored him and pulled a gun out of his coat, pointing it to Bruce's head, the cold metal flush to his temple. Bruce didn't even blink. After a moment Lex drew the weapon back.

"Unsophisticated weapon guns…don't you think?" Luthor said he laid it on his desk.

Reaching into a hidden drawer in the front of his desk he pulled out a beautiful dagger. It had a gilded hilt intricately engraved that flashed in the lamp light.

"Beautiful isn't it, it is amazing how much damage something so beautiful can cause."

With a deadly calm voice Bruce spoke. "I've been to Arkham, I saw what you did."

Luthor became instantly enraged his cool exterior vanished and his face betrayed the pure fury within. He flew across the remaining space and shoved the dagger into Bruce's shoulder pinning him to the wall.

Despite himself Bruce groaned out in pain as he felt his shoulder burn as if on fire. A fresh river of blood ran down his shoulder making him pale and his breathing shallow.

Luthor leaned in a mere breath's width from his face.

"You think I did that?"

_Diana,_

Diana heard Bruce's cry wrestling her arm free she punched Clark in the nose.

The shock made Clark release his grip and Diana jumped to her feet, she tried to get to the ladder but Oliver got to her first.

He and Clark managed to hold her down again but this time she would not be subdued. _Bruce is in trouble, he is hurting him! We have to save him…I have to!_

_Bruce,_

Luthor dug the dagger deeper holding Bruce's other arm down, with his free hand.

"I am not responsible." Luthor bit out.

"Care to explain?" Bruce grunted

Leaving Bruce still pinned to the wall Luthor walked over to the safe Bruce had been trying to open not long before. As Lex rummaged Bruce tried to pull the dagger from his shoulder to no avail. Every attempt left him gritting his teeth in searing pain.

Luthor turned to face his unfortunate guest again holding a vile of unnaturally blue liquid up to the light.

"You're an intelligent man Mr. Wayne, any idea what this is?"

"The cure."

"Oh very good, I must say I am almost impressed. But you are wrong about one thing this isn't a cure…it is a weapon… It was supposed to be a solution to TB a way to help hundreds, thousands, to save lives…But instead it ruined mine. You see Mr. Wayne I was tricked…never again."

Bruce managed to at last remove the dagger, he dropped it to the floor knowing it would do him no good. Luthor continued.

"20 years ago I was hired to test a theory that TB could be cured by altering a very rare form of frog venom. At first my research showed promise…but then it went terribly wrong. The man who had hired my arrived one day to collect the serum."

"The benefactor."

"My my you are well informed. Yes the benefactor I have no idea who he really was, every time I tried to find him I came up empty handed not so much as a shoe print was left behind."

"Lovely story but I fail to see what that has to do with Arkham."

"Impatient…anyway when I realized what he wanted the research for I refused to give it to him."

"So he burned down your lab and took it."

"Correct but not before agreeing with me that it needed further testing."

Bruce's eyes widened as he realized what Luthor had said… "She was the test."

For a moment Luthor's haughty disdain was gone, he looked at the vile in his hand with complete and utter loathing.

"They injected her while I was gone…Pete's funeral…when I got back it had already started."

"The insanity?"

"Not mere insanity something far worse, you saw her, there is no worse example of self-mutilation. She thought everything was after her, her mind created a thousand horrible nightmares that it then brought to life. She would scream out the names of these imaginary villains, clawing at her face, cutting herself to appease them. Eventually she lost her speech all together the only sound she could make was a scream. She pulled out her hair, destroyed herself knifes, screamed until she couldn't anymore and then just stare at the corner with her mouth wide open silently forming the words of what she feared. She couldn't see, she couldn't hear, anything with in reach was an enemy."

As Luthor turned towards the lamp Bruce saw a faint scare along his jaw.

"The scares multiplied on her face until she didn't even look human anymore, when I would take whatever weapon she had found away she would use her hands and teeth to inflict more pain upon herself. In the end I had no choice but to lock her up. She wasn't a woman anymore, she wasn't even an animal, and In all honesty it would have been kinder if I had killed her…but everyman has his limit."

Bruce thought back to the cell in Arkham, inside had sat a pale white being no larger than a child. Bones protruding from its small frame, a bald head covered in blood and sores. One dead eye staring at nothing and a socket where the other had been ripped out. Scares and wounds crisscrossed its face making a sickening spectacle of scare tissue and swollen flesh. Hands that had been broken so many times they could no longer close were strapped to her sides, and a smile that was both terrified and laughing as the sore screams tore from her scratched and mutilated throat.

"She was your wife."

"She was his test." Luthor smiled his face returning to the same superior façade it had been before.

"She was my lesson, I learned unless you have all the power you are being stepped on and I decided that I would never be stepped on again."

He once again examined the vile greed etched across his face.

"I am not a man who likes a missed opportunity. So I decided to turn my worst defeat into my greatest advantage."

By now Bruce could barely focus so great was his pain, and loss of blood.

Quickly Punching Bruce in the stomach Lex stood in front of him pushing him back against the wall.

"It has been a real pleasure, shame we won't meet again."

_Diana,_

Clark, Oliver, and Diana laid on the upper catwalk watching…waiting…hoping.

_Any second now Luthor could use one of the silent guns and kill him…he may have already! We have to help him!_

Diana was about to struggle again not caring if she alerted the guard and risked her life she had to help Bruce! But before her heroic deed manifested the trio saw Luthor run out of his office at break neck speed followed by his squad. They watched them run across the catwalk, down the latter, and off the production floor.

Clark and Oliver released her, the three stood confused. Diana didn't wait for what had just happened to be explained she raced towards the railing above the office.

_Oliver,_

_Why are they leaving? Something isn't write why r they runn…no…_

"DIANA STOP!" Oliver yelled.

At that moment the Office exploded, bursting into flames! It had been a trap, Bruce was gone.

_Clark,_

Oliver and Clark recovered first, Clark realizing that Luthor was going to blow the whole place up and them with it. Lex wasn't a fool he knew Bruce wasn't alone and now they were trapped.

_Diana,_

She watched in shock as the office and catwalk below fell 100 feet to the floor, the flames licking the sky near her face as they climbed towards the celling.

_No…_

_No, no, no… Bruce…he can't be… no_

Another explosion burst from the burning wreckage below the wave of heat burned her face like an oven…he was gone.

Diana gripped the railing and slowly leaned over the edge…looking below.

Tears stung her eyes as she watched the fire burn all she held dear… the pit of anger, sorrow, and pain flooded filling every part of her body with unimaginable pain stabbing inside her…until finally it burst out in the most broken hearted cry that she had ever heard…

Falling to her knees she sobbed…reaching her hand down to the death below she screamed his name.

"BRRRRUUUUUCCCCEEEEE! PPPPLLLLLEEEEAAAASSSSSEEEEE!...NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…GOD NO!"

Sobs choked her as she cried

"You can't leave…Please you can't leave me here…..BRUCE! COME BACK!"

Wrapping her arms around her stomach she cried wanting to through herself down with him.

"_Please…I love you…"_

Clark pulled her back from the edge afraid she would kill herself, Diana fought him clinging to the rail.

"Diana stop…STOP!"

He shook her by the shoulders but still she fought.

"DIANA HE'S DEAD!"

Hearing the words she stopped and looked back into Clark's kind face she could see the tears in his eyes.

"He's dead Diana…"

Burring her head in his chest she sobbed pounding her fists on his chest.

_No…no…Bruce…. I love you..._


	31. Chapter 30: Love and Death

**So Sorry for the long wait but here it is! **

**Please Review I have appreciated all the comments :)**

**Also my apologies to anyone who can speak Greek, Italian, or French. Sadly my one and only language is English so I relied on google translator. I am aware that it is a very poor translation and to be honest it wasn't all that great in English so I am sorry if it annoys or offends anyone and please don't let it take away from the story.**

**Chapter 30: Love and Death**

_The Factory_

_Oliver,_

Oliver didn't know what was about to happen but he could sense something coming, every fiber of his being screamed it. They had to get out of there NOW! But how? They were trapped. His eyes scanned the blazing room, roaming across the metal catwalk that swayed with the force of the spreading inferno below. If there was an eternal pit of fire this must be the feeling it invoked. Every sway of the bridge sent fear coursing through his spine that the metal cords holding it aloft seeming so delicate as they swung would snap sending them to their deaths…alongside Bruce.

There was no way down and even if there had been going into the flames would have been sure suicide. But if they stayed up here much longer the smoke would suffocate them before the fire had a chance.

_DINAH!_

She was still out there waiting for them he had to get them out of here! But How? Finally his eyes caught sight of a small gleam of pure light through the flames rising from below that engulfed the catwalk bending and waving. He could feel the metal burn through his shoes but he walked forward…a window?...IT WAS A WINDOW!

Turning to Clark he yelled over the roar of the blaze.

"FOLLOW ME!"

_Clark,_

He watched Oliver run into the flames disappearing still holding the weeping Diana to his chest he heard her cough as the smoke began to fill her lungs. Drawing her away he look urgently into her face.

"Diana put your sleeve over your face and hold on to my arm…whatever you do don't let go!"

Despite his fears for her current mental state she nodded slightly and raised the sleeve over her nose and mouth.

Not wasting anymore time he grabbed her arm and the two raced into the flames.

He had lost one friend…he wouldn't lose another…

_Diana,_

The smoke burned as Clark pulled her forward she could see nothing but black and red. The flames licked her she could smell the sickening smell of burning hair as it grabbed at her tresses searing the ends. Still he pulled her on through this world of darkness and fire. Refusing to leave her behind.

As it cleared she saw a faint light coming closer, as she neared a window appeared. Oliver raised his large boot and kicked with all of his might shattering the glass frame.

Using the rope the three slide down the side of the building one after the other as far as it would reach, letting go and praying as they fell the remainder of the way. When they hit the ground Oliver yelled with all his might fearing the oncoming disaster he couldn't name.

"RUN!"

They ran…

Racing across the clearing to the ever nearing figure of Dinah frantically motioning them forward.

She heard a sound so powerful it shook the ground as if the earth would swallow them. The next thing she knew she was face down on the ground. Turning her head she saw what had been the factory was now a blaze of orange fire reaching towards the sky with long red fingers. He had blown up the factory…and they were almost inside when it happened.

It was as if the whole world had slowed down…an unbearably loud yet inaudible ringing was in her ears. Turning back towards her friends she saw Oliver motioning and running forward a streak of black and green racing across the clearing. He was yelling to her as he ran she could see his mouth moving but no sound reached her.

She felt strong arms pick her up and set her back on her feet. She looked to see Clark mouthing something but it was muffled and hard to hear. After she didn't move he pushed her forward and she stumbled suddenly remembering what was happening and she took off running again, surpassing both of the men in her race.

Her hearing cleared as she ran, she could hear the fire behind her as well as Clark's footsteps with increasing clarity. She didn't think she had ever run so fast.

They mounted the horses and rode off into the night, trying to outrun the events that they couldn't hide from.

_Later at Wayne Manor_

_Diana,_

Clark and Diana waited in the drawing room for Oliver to return. He had taken Dinah home, understandably the young mother wanted to be with her son, to hold him close after such a tragic reminder of life's frailty. He had promised to come back though so…they waited.

Clark had been kind enough to break the news to Alfred. Upon hearing the death of the closest thing to a child he had the old man disappeared into that accursed cave and hadn't resurfaced since. Diana didn't blame him it was the most solitary part of the house and a perfect place to be alone and grieve. As much as her heart was breaking she could only imagine the sufferings of poor Alfred.

She wished she could go comfort him or even Clark who sat across from her feeling the pain of losing his best friend…but she couldn't…so they waited in silence.

_He's dead…he's dead…he's dead…_

No matter how many times she told herself she still couldn't believe it…

_What do I do now? Where can I go?_

Everything in her life had been lost to her, Bruce had been the one thing left…she didn't know what she should do.

No one had thought to explain to her the rights of widows, Diana had never even met a married woman before she herself became one. She didn't know that she now owned everything that had been Bruce's, to her she had never owned anything except what had been given her so it just made sense that once the giver was gone so was the gift.

_I need a plan. What can I do? _

She had survived before and she would again. She had lost them all her mother, her friends, and now Bruce. It was a pain that would never leave but she was still alive and for no other purpose then to remember them she would survive.

_I suppose they have brothel…no…I don't want that life again…maybe I could work for a shop, or I could be a maid…I'll find something…then again maybe I should just go back to the brothels…Bruce is gone…so what does it matter?_

A new thought struck her.

_Alfred…_

What would become of him? She thought of the dear old man who had been so kind to her time and time again. She thought of his kind face and respectable demeanor, so solid and unmovable. He had spent his whole life taking care of this house…of Bruce. Now who would take care of him?

_I will._

She may not have particularly cared what happened to her life but she would make sure Alfred was taken care of…loved…he would never be alone. She didn't know how she would do it but she would.

Once again her thoughts drifted back to Bruce, without a doubt in her heart she knew the one thing he honestly cared about in this life had been Alfred Pennyworth. That's what he would have wanted from her…to take care of him. It was the only way she could say thank you.

Once again she fought back tears, once they began she wouldn't be able to stop.

_I love him…why couldn't I have been allowed to keep him…Oh Bruce please…just come back…_

Tears pooled in her beautiful eyes…he never would.

A welcome if only temporary distraction from her thoughts arrived when Oliver finally returned.

"What do we do now?" he asked the defeat evident in his voice.

"I'll tell you what we're going to do, we are going to the prime minister." replied Clark with stone like determination.

Oliver gave him a skeptical look.

"Listen if we can warn the prime minister then he can take precautions against Luthor."

"What if he doesn't believe us which is likely seeing as how he has no reason to suspect Luthor of anything?"

"Then we'll tie a rope around his waist and follow him like a dog!"

Oliver and Diana looked at him in surprise. What had happened to the timid and shy Clark they knew so well, the man before them now held no resemblance.

"If anything happens to the prime minister be left in no doubt that Luthor will take his place." Clark continued.

"But what go would it do? THINK CLARK!"

Diana watched on in an instant the lifelong roles the two men had held were reversed. Clark now full of stubborn determination not caring what course of action he took as long as he did something, was being confronted by Oliver begging him to listen to reason and not act rashly.

"YOU SAW WHAT HAPPENED, WHAT ELSE CAN WE DO!"

"OF COURSE I SAW…IT WAS MY FAULT!"

Clark stopped arguing as he looked at his guilt ridden friend.

"Clark I am the one who started all of this, if I hadn't brought you two into it then he would still be here. Which is why I can't allow you to do something so STUPID! Haven't we all lost enough? KNOW WHEN YOU ARE BEAT!"

"We have to try Oliver, if there is even a slight chance we can stop him then we have to try."

"Alright when do we leave?"

Oliver looked back in horror at Diana, she couldn't be serious.

"Diana the prime minister isn't going to lis…."

"Bruce is dead Oliver!"

Her words were like a slap in the face fresh guilt and grief weighed on his shoulders.

She looked at the two men with cold determination and slight resentment that made them inwardly cringe. She had hardened into stone before their eyes. The tears were gone they would do her no good now…now was the time for action.

"He is dead and we can't let that be in vain, this may be foolish, it may be completely idiotic but what does that matter…we have to try."

She softened a little before continuing.

"I understand your reservations you have a wife and child, and Clark you just married Lois so if either of you don't want to try and warn the prime minister for fear of repercussions then I understand…but I am going."

Oliver looked from Diana to Clark before hanging his head. "The sooner we leave the better."

_Later at number 10 Downing Street._

The Butler wouldn't let them through, the three of them had been standing in the foyer of the prime minister's home for the last half an hour while Clark and Oliver argued with the unmovable little man, trying to convince him to let them see the minister.

With sniff and condescending air the portly little man thrust his angular nose in the air and addressed the intruders.

"It is simply impossible. The Prime Minister is in a meeting and cannot be disturbed, not even by the Duke of Cumberbatch and a Kent."

A lofty smirk slid across his face making Diana want to rub it against the brick exterior to remove every last smug feature.

Clark and Oliver continue to plead their case, but Diana had had enough.

She walked in front of the two, placing herself intimidatingly close to the Butler. She stared down coldly at the significantly shorter man, her black mourning gown making her seem eerie and ominous, bitter grief hardened on her face.

"Do you know who I am?" she asked

The Butler shook his head no, her unparalleled beauty and intense gaze had made him loose his offensive tongue and haughty manner. He starred back with the frightened respect of beaten bully.

"I am Diana Wayne, Duchess of Strathmore and recently widowed wife of Bruce Wayne, the bravest person I have ever known, and the man I loved. He was killed, trying to protect your prime minister from the man who ended his life, and I will not let that be in vain. You are going to take us to this prime minister immediately or I swear by all I have lost, that I will break every bone in your body until your screams send him running to your aid, understood?"

The butler was left in no doubt of the truth of her words.

"This way your Grace." He respectfully squeaked and led them down a hall.

As they neared the door all three were struck by an unexplainable sense of urgency. Clark being the first to arrive rushed into the office Diana and Oliver right on his heals before the butler had a chance to announce them.

Upon entering they were meet by the most horrifying sight imaginable at that moment.

There was Luthor, sitting calmly in front of the prime minister's desk, sipping a cup of tea.

The Prime Minister stood upon seeing them enter, Luthor remained seated.

Diana had never felt so angry before in her life, nothing compared to this pure hot rage she felt coursing through her veins. She was losing control of herself, without even realizing it she lunged for him wanting to rip the smile off his face with her nails…to make him bleed.

_You will pay!_

As she raced towards him she felt a strong arm block her path holding her back, she fought it with all her might.

"Diana!" Oliver hissed as he tried to restrain her.

The words came out of her mouth without thought, she didn't need to think of them every part of her wanted to hurt this man anyway she could.

"COWARDLY BASTARD! AN ASS WOULDN'T EVEN DEEM YOU WORTH ITS SHIT!"

Lex put a hand to his heart feigning offense.

"What is the meaning of THIS!?" the prime minister demanded.

Clark tried to recover the situation still shocked at Diana's…thorough study of the English language.

"Sir, we have reason to believe that this man (points to Luthor) is trying to kill you…or at the very least do you serious harm. Please sir we beg you to distance yourself from him and order more security, immediately!"

"Preposterous, what sort of female nonsense is this?" Luthor responded coolly.

Diana became blind with rage lashing out in a flurry of Italian, French and Greek.

"Bastardo Spero che Dio ti uccide senza pietà."

"Laissez vos yeux tombent de leurs orbites tandis que les chiens se lèchent le sang de vos vents avec des langues de viniger"

"Σας δολοφονικές γιος ενός των χοίρων, στην κόλαση μαζί σας, και μπορεί να σας κάψει εκεί για όλη την αιωνιότητα, μαζί με το σκυλί που σας κουράσω!"

The occupants of the room starred in horror as she continued to spew insults only able to catch the bits of French and Italian. None of them understood Greek but they were sure it carried the same message.

Luthor stood walk over to the fury his face had lost its amused look and he now glared at her with serious intensity. Leaning down he looked her straight in the eyes.

"Σκύλα δεν ξέρετε έχω κερδίσει."

Diana's mouth hung open in shock…_What did he just say?!_...she knew.

Luthor smiled vilely as he continued to address her in flawless Greek knowing they two of them were the sole knowledgeable of the ancient tongue. The others watched in amazement at the exchange completely at a loss to its meaning.

"Μπορείτε ανόητο γυναίκα, θα πρέπει να έχουν αποδεχθεί την ήττα σας, αλλά τώρα είστε μια προσβολή δεν θα αγνοήσει. Σύντομα θα επανενωθεί σε θάνατο. (You foolish woman, you should have accepted your defeat, but now you're an insult I won't ignore. You'll soon be reunited in death.)"

_Office,_

Shattered Glass rained down from above beating down those below, causing all to cover their heads in protection.

When they look up there was a dark hooded figure standing behind Luthor his face completely unseen behind a hooded mask.

Before they could react the phantom grabbed Luthor. In a mere second he reached into his suit pocket bringing out a syringe filled with electric blue liquid. Stabbing the syringe into Luthor's chest, the ghost injected him before letting go.

Luthor fell to his knees, hands shaking he removed the vile letting it fall to the floor with a sound that echoed through the room.

_Luthor,_

Lex stared at the half filled vile and then his shaking hands as his vision blurred and cleared...blurred and cleared…

"_No!_"

His mind felt on fire, sharp pricks forced themselves out through his eyeballs…everything moved far away from his sight and then rushed back trying to force itself inside his head. Faces morphed and disappeared while distant thunder filled his ears.

Standing on unsteady feet he turned to look at the demon. What he saw was the last thing he ever wished to see again.

Gasping he spoke her name.

"Elizabeth?"

But it couldn't be…it couldn't…

Everything else blurred out of focus except her face. There the beautiful gray eyes looked back at him seeing everything, seeing into his very soul. They peeled him back layer after layer till nothing was left…till he was nothing. Her light brown hair whisked in curls around her face. A haunting reminder.

The vision spoke with a voice like music crying every word but also saying them like stone…ringing in his ears but also to soft to hear.

"What have you done to me?" she accused.

"No! It wasn't my fault, I didn't do it! It wasn't my fault!" he cried

_Maybe it was._

"I am sorry…so sorry…it wasn't supposed…I didn't mean…but, but it was for you…everything I did…all for you!" His voice pleaded begging the ghost for understanding.

"What have you done, Lex?" she asked her harsh words causing him to shake uncontrollably.

_Office,_

They watched Luthor plead with the second cloaked figure whom none of them could remember entering, it just appeared as if always there. Its face was shrouded in the hood of the cloak completely invisible to all but Luthor who kneeled on the floor before it clutching them hem with desperation. The second looked on the dark cowl masking all expression except one, instilling terror in them all.

The new figure hadn't spoken yet Luthor talked to it as if answering a question.

They listened dumbfounded as he confessed crime after unspeakable crime, begging the cloaked figure for forgiveness, insisting that it was all for her.

Still no response, but Luthor fell to the floor weeping as he clutched "her" skirts. The pure anguish sent chills down the spine as his pleas echoed through the house.

_Luthor,_

"It's too late Lex, it was worthless…I am already dead…and you killed me."

So cold, so final _Why? Why? Who did this to him?_

Looking through his tears another figure came into focus one that he hated with all his being. He glared furiously at the demon beside her, the shadowed face with no name.

"Why are you doing this to me!?" He shouted

A scowl appears, one more foreboding then death. Its voice deep and bone chilling.

"Because…you killed me."

The cowl pushed back revealing…

"Bruce Wayne…"

Lex starred at the man he had killed…the ghost sent to haunt him…and he laughed.

_Office_

Insane laughter filled the room forcing its way into their ears, only one other voice had ever created that sound…and now a new joke took his place.

"That should be enough"

Everyone turned to see Commissioner Gordon and several members of the police force!

Steve Trevor went goes forward and cuffed Luthor, dragging him, still laughing out of the office.

"Sir, I am taking him into custody. Since the whole vile of poison wasn't used we are hopeful the effects will wear off. At least enough for him to appear in court, but rest assured with a confession like the one he just gave there is no doubt of his guilt." Gordon reported.

The poor Prime Minister still starred where the man who only moments ago he considered a friends had knelt. Weakly he nodded his head, instinctively acknowledging the proceedings but still to shocked to be of any help.

Ignoring him Gordon walked to the still cloaked figure.

"Are you alright Barbara?"

Carefully he removed the cloak revealing a red headed woman, supporting her weight on a pair of crutches, both of her legs were encased in heavy metal braces and a steel rod was strapped to her spine allowing her to stand where she would otherwise have been unable. The mechanism was clearly causing her pain but she still managed a small smile.

"Yes Father, I am alright."

Gordon helped his daughter out of the room, helped by Clark and Oliver who did so mechanically still to in shock to absorb anything else. Leaving Diana in the room alone.

Alone…that is except for…

_Diana,_

_This can't be…I am dreaming…This is all dream…_

The two look at each other, Diana trying to decide if it was a ghost, fighting down the irrational hope that threatened her.

There he stood, black hair swooping over his forehead, dark blue eyes staring back at hers.

She didn't move…she couldn't.

He put out a hand towards her, still she stayed frozen. Taking a step forward he was struck by intense pain and had to catch himself on the desk, sweat pouring down his face from the pain. The adrenaline that had carried him through was spent and now he verged on collapse, his shoulder and leg refusing to deny their abuse any longer.

Without a moment's thought she ran to steady him.

"I am fine" he grunted out as she tried to help him to the floor to lean against the wood.

He looked at her, giving a rare grin. "Surprise Princess."

She didn't react at first, afraid of frightening the dream away. Then she whispered.

"_You're alive?_"

The smile was gone replaced with concern and regret.

"Diana I am sorry I…"

She cuts him off, hugging him close with the desperation of a frightened little girl. He groaned in pain but returns the embrace with his good arm.

"You're alive." She choked, as tears flowed down her cheeks.

"I am here Princess, I am still here."


	32. Chapter 31: Princess

**DA DA DA DA DUM! HERE IT IS!**

**IT has been a long mostly positive road...please review **

**Chapter 31: Princess**

_Wayne Industries, May 1873_

_Bruce,_

Bruce walked down the hallway his cane clicking on the floor as he went. It had been a month since Luthor's arrest and life was trying desperately to return to normal. He knew he wasn't fully recovered but he needed to work, so here he was, cane and all.

As he slowly climbed the stairs his thoughts drifted to Diana. It had been a pleasant time between them, she had taken a keen interest in his recovery and she had never been far from his side during the past month, even sleeping in an arm chair in his room despite his protests. She had ignored him smiling and retrieving another book to read.

They had many talks over the past month but one topic in particular he had veered away from, but he knew his days of avoiding it were coming to a close.

He could see that despite her happiness she was uneasy. At first he hadn't understood why but came to realize that she didn't know what would become of her now that it was all over.

He had been loathed to broach the subject because he himself was unsure. He just wanted things to freeze as they were but the unshakable realist that he was knew this was foolishness.

Alfred had pointed out that very morning that he was being cruel to her by not making a decision, now he decided that Alfred was right.

_I love her, _he thought. _She is the most magnificent woman in the world, and I love her._

At last he had admitted to himself what he had known to be true all along. He LOVED HER! It was if the weight of the world had lifted from his shoulders, for the first time in months he felt himself able to breath and an uncharacteristic excitement filled him. He stood in front of his office door with the thought in his mind that for the first time in his life he was truly in love, and unless he was mistaken, she loved him too.

Turning the knob he entered his office to find a man waiting for him starring at an oil painting.

The benefactor.

He was tall, possible taller than himself. His dark hair was highlighted by silver at the temple, and he was sporting a beard that came to sharp point making his face appear sharper than it already was. Dark green eyes starred back snake like under bushy grey eyebrows. His jet black cane glinted and a silver serpents head rested on the top.

"Can I help you?" Bruce asked, immediately on guard against the suspicious man.

He spoke with a thick accent that Bruce couldn't place, but added a layer of refinement and threat to his words.

"I just wanted to thank you detective, that little man Luthor was becoming a thorn in my side for whose removal I am grateful." He replied.

Bruce walked farther into the room putting the desk between them, there was something inherently untrustworthy about this stranger.

The man continued "Well I won't take up anymore of your time detective, besides I am quite sure we'll meet again."

Having had his say he turned to leave.

"If that is the case then I would prefer to know your name." Bruce was as calm is if ask for the time.

The man turns with a viper like smile and a small gleam of respect in his eye.

"Why of course detective, I have many names, but you may know me as Ra's al Ghul."

He left. Bruce knew that name would someday be important, even if he didn't yet know why.

Knowing answerless questions had their time, he returned to business and began his work.

As the day progressed his thoughts again returned to Diana.

Unlocking the top drawer of his desk, he retrieved a thick stack of documents. After sifting through them for a while he found what he had been looking for. The annulment papers, he had filled them out months ago, all that was missing was her signature.

He looked at the blank space…_I don't want her to go._

That thought shocked him a little, all this time he had been planning for her departure, even at times looking forward to life returning to normal. Even after a friendship began between them he had always kept firmly in his mind the knowledge that she would be leaving. Now he remembered why that had been so important, why becoming to close was a risk…it hurt…The thought of never seeing her again, of her leaving him…it was more painful then he thought possible, and he couldn't do it.

Standing he grabbed his coat keeping a tight grip on the papers he headed for the door.

He was going home, and asking her to stay. As he limped down the stairs he inwardly smiled envisioning them burning the accursed papers after she agreed, his hands itched to toss them into the fire.

As the carriage drove he allows himself to imagine their life together, and became almost giddy (for Batman anyway) at the thought.

He burst through the door eager to find her, ignoring the pain in his leg at its over use. Seeing Alfred heading across the marble floor he called to him asking about Diana's whereabouts.

"She is in the Library Sir."

Bruce headed in that direction but was stopped by an unexpected announcement.

"J'onn Jones is waiting for you in study her arrived roughly half an hour ago. I told him you were out but he insisted on waiting, it would be rude to keep him waiting any longer Master Bruce."

Bruce was intrigued, he wanted to go find Diana but he supposed it wouldn't hurt to wait a little while longer. He headed towards the study curious to hear what J'onn had to say, Alfred followed close behind.

"J'onn it's good to see you."

Bruce greeted his friend warmly and motioned him to seat while he sat down himself. Alfred lurked near the door, Bruce didn't even bother asking him to leave this was easier than making the old man resort to listening through the key hole.

"You won't believe it my friend, I myself find it incredible."

A large smile was bursting from J'onn's face making him seem like a small child who knows a secret they want to share.

"To think all this time and we had no idea!"

"J'onn what are you talking about?"

"Diana!"

"What about her?" Bruce was not receiving the ideal ratio of questions to answers.

J'onn's smile only grew. "You won't believe it Bruce."

Now he was becoming impatient. "Believe what!"

J'onn sat back in his chair crossing his arms and looking annoyingly smug.

"She, is a Princess."

Alfred clutched the mantle a heart to his chest as if he was having a heart attack.

"Dear Lord." He gasped.

Bruce was also to shocked to manage much more of a sentence.

"What?"

"She is a Princess, Bruce, full blooded and titled."

"I KNEW IT! Thank you Giles Grimm." Alfred praised. Bruce sent him a silencing glare, he had to wrap his head around this.

"How can _she_, be a Princess? I saw the brothel."

"Hard to believe isn't it."

"Especially without an explanation." Bruce growled.

J'onn smiled knowing his fun was over and it was now time to dispense the facts.

"Her name Bruce, is Princess Diana Theodora Sofia Irene Anthos of Greece."

Alfred and Bruce both paused at the first mention of Diana's full name.

"Her mother was Hippolyta Olympianus sole child and heir to easily the largest fortune in Greece. After her father's death she was put into the care of her uncle. He was a drunk who died under mysterious circumstances about 15 years ago. He must have had quite the enemy when one considers what state they found him in. Anyways Hippolyta was married at 16 to Prince Petros Anthos an equally wealthy man in Greece even though he was lesser Prince with no real claim to the throne. Apparently he was much older than her and was a harsh man. That coupled with her unhappy childhood it isn't hard to understand why she did what she did next."

"What did she do?" Asked Alfred completely enthralled.

J'onn leaned in slightly like an ancient story teller.

"She ran…Hippolyta disappeared one night while the couple were visiting Paris. She was also heavily pregnant at the time. Cruel man though he was her husband scoured the city looking for her. Two months later he was found in his hotel room with a bullet through his head and the revolver in his hand. In his other hand was crumpled a note, on it was a description of a pair of priceless and unique twin silver bracelets, saying that whoever had those bracelets got it all."

"Got it all?" asked Bruce.

"All of it Bruce, Petros knew that if she was alive Hippolyta was carrying his child, his only child. Those bracelets could never be duplicated not in a hundred years, he also knew Hippolyta would never part with them. They were the perfect credentials to prove his child's identity. So whoever has those silver bracelets gets it all, both fortunes, the titles, estates, and the inheritance of both her grandparents and her father."

J'onn's audience continued to stare.

"In short gentlemen, she is the wealthiest woman in the world."

At that news Alfred burst into uncharacteristic laughter. Trying to regain composure he addressed them between gasps for air. "I am afraid you married far above yourself Master Bruce…And to think she could buy this house for a doll!"

Bruce just starred in shock while Alfred recovered.

_Diana, a Princess…a real Princess…_

Alfred regained himself enough to ask one more question.

"What happened to poor Hippolyta?"

"Specifically I don't know…" J'onn began.

"She died." Bruce stated. "When Diana was 12 years old Hippolyta died in that brothel…still living in fear of a man who had been dead for all that time. She trapped herself and didn't even know her capture was gone."

The other two hung their heads in respect of that tragic woman.

"Thank you J'onn, you must be hungry. Alfred would you please make our guest comfortable."

The Butler was back in good form, he could sense that his charge needed to be alone. He directed J'onn towards the dining room saying as he left that he would bring the princess in a moment. He closed the door and Bruce was left alone.

_She's a Princess, a wealthy one at that, she is free. She has everything she needs…everything…_

More than anything he wanted her to stay with him, to be his and no one else's, and deep down he knew she would, he knew she loved him too all he had to do was ask.

But if she did stay then would it really have been her choice. She had never had a life of her own choosing, she didn't know what it was like. If she stayed here she would for the rest of her life see everything around her as his and everything he gave her as a gift that could be taken away. The independence and freedom she had always wanted but never known would seem a stolen chance because she hadn't been able to discover how they felt.

She loved him he knew that, and he loved her more than anything. But if he truly wanted her to be his it had to be her decision. And she couldn't decide if she didn't understand the choice. He wasn't her way out or her haven of safety. She didn't have to live on his charity even though that was never how he viewed it. She had to live her own life…she had to know…she had to leave.

A knock on the door. He adjusted his features putting the solemn mask in place, disguising the pure anguish he felt inside.

"Come in."

She was more beautiful than ever, looking every inch the princess she was, her light blue green eyes making her eyes startlingly clear and her dark hair tempting him. Her smile shown brilliant as she entered making his heart stop. She was the most beautiful woman who ever lived…and she could have been his.

Bowing stiffly he guided her to a seat and told her everything. She stared dumbfounded as the past she never knew came to life. When the story was finished he slid the annulment papers across the desk towards her.

"All you need do is sign, and you can go."

She jerked away from the papers is if they were on fire, a look of pained confusion on her face.

"But Bruce, I don't want to…"

He cut her off afraid that her protests would weaken his own resolve which was shaky at best.

"I am grateful for your assistance these past few months Diana, and I will make sure Etta packs all of your things so nothing is left behind."

He looked back into her searching eyes, guilt coursing through him.

_It's the right thing Diana you'll see._

"I believe it would be best if you went…your Highness." He bowed slightly making reality come crashing down upon her.

_Diana,_

_Why are you doing this Bruce? I know you love me, why send me away?_

She couldn't deny her overwhelming curiosity about her new knowledge, but what did that matter it didn't mean she wanted to leave. Why was he asking it of her?

"You now have the freedom you always wanted, I suggest you use it wisely."

His voice was kind and instructive and that was when she realized he wasn't asking her to leave…he was telling her to.

With a shaking hand she signed the papers, feeling her heart break with each stroke of the pen.

With tears pooling in her eyes she looked back at the man she loved.

"I am going to miss this place, and you." She said.

He smiled sadly allowing the mask to slip ever so slightly.

"You will be missed as well, never doubt that."

She couldn't understand why he was doing this, but she instinctively knew it was not out of cruelty, he honestly believed he was doing the right thing for whatever idiotic reason.

Turning on her heals she left the office and head towards her room to begin packing.

_Later in Front of the House_

_Diana,_

Etta cried till there were no tears left and then she continued to cry dry sobs as she hugged Diana refusing to let her go. Diana also shed tears as she clung to her best friend.

"Don't worry Etta I'll write you, and you have to tell me all about your wedding plans."

Etta nodded bravely knowing that such promises even between friends rarely manifest themselves not for lack of trying. After one more hug Etta fled back into the house a fresh damn of tears bursting forth as she ran.

Diana watched her go pained to see her friend so miserable wishing more than anything she could help.

She made her way through the rest of the staff, embracing and thanking them for small kindnesses until finally she arrived at a very grief stricken old butler.

Cursing the tears that escaped her she looked at the kind worn face that had been the closest thing to a father she had ever know.

"I'll never forget you Alfred."

Sad grey eyes looked back like a tired old dog that only wants to rest, safe and loved.

"Your Highness, I never had a daughter, but if I had I couldn't have been prouder of her then I am of you."

He stuck out a hand to shake but the tears came and she hugged the old man with the fierceness of a child who doesn't wish to let go, sobbing into his shoulder as he firmly hugged her back.

"I love you Alfred, please don't forget me."

"Not if I lived to be a thousand." The old man whispered. Then straightening he held her out at arm's length and with formal dignity he bowed.

Sniffing she nodded her head. Looking down at her hand she removed Martha Wayne's beautiful engagement ring from her finger and put it into the old man's hand. He looked up at her understandingly and she disappeared into the carriage where J'onn waited.

As they rode towards the docks Diana clutched the beautiful wooden case Bruce had given her, inside were her mother's bracelets.

_I won't forget you._

_Bruce,_

Alfred entered the study and gently placed the ring on the expansive mahogany desk. Bruce stood in front of the large window watching the carriage grow smaller in the distance.

"She is gone Master Bruce."

"I know."


	33. Epilogue

**Ok, despite previous confusion ****THIS**** IS THE END OF THE STORY!**

**YAY, Thank You to everyone who read and for all the feedback and suggestion, I really enjoyed writing this story and I am considering a sequel, let me know what you think.**

**and for the final time, PLEASE COMMENT! :) **

**Epilogue**

_3 years later, Vienna Austria June 1876_

_Diana,_

_Her Royal Highness _Princess Diana Theodora Sofia Irene Anthos of Greece sat in her luxurious villa listening to the private orchestra performing for herself and her friends. As the music wafted through the small palace she thought back over the last three years, so much had changed.

J'onn had not exaggerated, she really was the wealthiest woman in the world. It was incredible really, overnight she had gone from a penniless uneducated prostitute to a Princess with more money than she could have spent in a hundred life times.

She had estates and palaces spread across the whole of Europe and reportedly even one in Egypt though she had yet to see it. The "_Lost Princess_" had quickly become the darling of the world as her supposedly "tragic" story spread through all ranks of society and she found an open door of acceptance that otherwise would have been closed.

Of course there were those that doubted her claim, mostly the old sect who had known her parents, but all it took was an introduction and anyone with eyes could see without a doubt whose child she was. Diana herself remembered the first time she had seen the resemblance.

J'onn had taken her to her father's palace in Athens. She had walked the white marble halls being shown all the family relics and possessions that were now or she supposed always had been hers.

As they walked through the portrait gallery she was shown portrait after portrait of relatives and famous acquaintances of her ancestors. The care taker stopped in front of a magnificent portrait that stood head and shoulders above the rest. In it a beautiful golden haired woman starred solemnly back through gray eyes with just a hint of blue. Diana saw her own high cheekbones etched in the woman's face along with her long neck and refined dignity. It had been so long since she had seen that face, it had become hard to remember.

"_Mother._" She whispered.

The servant smiled and nodded "Yes your highness and that is your father."

Diana's eyes moved to the man standing next to her mother and gasped in surprise.

There stood a tall dark man with raven hair, a strong mouth and eyes a clear azure contrasting sharply with his olive skin.

Those were her eyes…this was her father.

For so many years the man had held no interest for her but now she realized how much she did resemble him. Her height, her hair, even her eyes all the things that had always been hers but never her mother's she now knew who had given them to her.

She couldn't say she felt a connection to the man, not after what her mother had gone through. But it did provide closure to a subject she hadn't even realized had been open. She was the product of both these people and she was a reflection of them but also completely her own.

It gave a glimpse into herself that otherwise would have remained unknown.

Diana stood shaking the memory from her mind she left the room allowing the others to continue with the concert, she wanted some time to think.

Wandering through the gardens she stopped to pick some prized tulips that had been a gift from a noble in Holland.

These past three years had been a whirl wind of travel and excitement. She had seen many places, but Vienna had come to hold a special place in her heart. There were no ghosts here, no memories or reminders. But no matter how hard she tried she couldn't stay away from Greece, it held a special grip on her. It made her feel connected to something, when there she was part of a lineage she had a history that she could acknowledge with pride. But no matter how much she loved it she always ran again to some place new.

Wealth had given her many things including the independence she had always longed for. Which didn't disappoint, for the first time in her life something was hers, she was self-sufficient and no longer the burden of others. There was a self-respect in that that she appreciated. She also found the joy of being able to help others. Everywhere she went she had contributed to charities and schools with a religious fervor that had earned her the unofficial nickname of Athens's Angel.

It had taken three years to slow down enough to think about why she kept running.

_He never sent for you…he never even wrote._

She loved him just as much now as she had three years ago when he had sent her away. She understood now why he had done it and she was grateful, but still she couldn't understand why he had never contacted her. She had been sure he loved her and figured that once time had passed he would ask her to come back. But after all this time she knew it wasn't going to be; he didn't love her anymore. Time can either make the heart grow fonder or forgetful. She should just be grateful for what she had and move on.

_Even now I don't care, if I could just see him again, to know he loved me too, then these past years wouldn't matter... If…Love him all you want Diana, hold onto it if you must, but accept what you can't change, play your cards and enjoy the game._

Even as she thought the painful truth she knew she could never give up on him completely. The heart can never fully let go of one it once claimed as its own, no matter how the soul suffers.

Suddenly the beautiful yellow palace and colorful gardens seemed cold and oppressive. She crumpled the tulips in her hands letting them fall to the ground. Turning on her heels she headed back inside. She had a wonderful life and she was happy, but right now it was time to go home.

_Greece June 1876_

_Bruce,_

He walked along the beach watching seagulls argue above. He didn't know why he was here, it was foolishness, but here he was.

The beach was deserted, the sun was setting glistening off the waves, most people were in their homes but he was here. Walking…thinking.

He didn't know where she was anymore, for the first few months he had followed every newspaper story that reported on her, but eventually he stopped. He had thrown himself into his work at the cost of his health. Three years is a long time for a man to try and forget. It hadn't worked; everywhere he looked he saw her. A hundred times he had thought of writing or finding her and every time he hadn't.

His melancholy had worsened, he had fired staff, and ignored friends until only Alfred remained. Finally the butler had had enough. With an admirable strength he made Bruce pull himself out of it. Sent him out, made him reconnect with the people who cared for him and made him live his life once more. Bruce was grateful but continued to work himself too hard.

The doctor had sighted exhaustion and had demanded he take a rest. How do you rest from loneliness? Alfred had agreed and had packed him off to the continent instructing him to "Relax Master Bruce."

It had worked at first. A safari in Africa, then the sights of the Middle East and China, all culminating in a tour of Europe. This was the end. He had had no intention of coming, but on the slim chance that she was here, that he would see her just once, he had come to Greece.

_This is foolishness, even if she is here what will you find on the beach._

As he continued to walk he stopped to collect shells, always throwing them back once he picked them up. _Tis better to have loved and lost…then to never have loved at all…what fool came up with that?_

She would never forgive him now, it had been too long. Perhaps she had met someone else, maybe she had fall in love and gotten married again.

_That would be best. _He thought, while every part of him called himself a liar.

If he could just know if she still loved him, even if she didn't, let him have a chance to tell her.

He froze as music reached his ears. It was a woman's voice singing sweet and clear to the sea, and the song brought tears to his eyes and hope to his heart. Turning around he ran towards the ever nearing song and stopped short staring at her sitting in the sand oblivious to him, her feet being washed by the surf, a look of serenity on her face, and longing in her voice.

_Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,_

_Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;_

_Sounds of the rude world, heard in the day,_

_Lull'd by the moonlight have all pass'd away!_

_Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song,_

_List while I woo thee with soft melody;_

_Gone are the cares of life's busy throng,_

_Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!_

_Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!_

Her raven hair was blowing in the breeze about her, her eyes closed allowing the last few rays of sunlight to fall on her face.

"Diana?"

Her eyes opened revealing beautiful azure, slowly she turned her head to him, and the two stared for a long time before a beautiful smile lit up her face.

"Bruce?"

He walked over to her kneeling in the sand. Taking his hand he tucked a dark curl behind her ear. Looking into her eyes, hesitantly as if she would disappear in a puff of smoke, he spoke.

"I love you, and I will continue to love you for the rest of my life."

Finally the words she had so longed to hear reached her ears, erasing all slight and pain.

She kissed him and he her, holding each other close…never letting go.


End file.
